


Fly Away, Fly Away, Far Away

by QueenOfAllCorgis



Series: Fly Away, Fly Away, Far Away [1]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Abuse, Angel!Roger, Brian saves the day, Dehumanization, M/M, Sexual Slavery, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2020-05-12 05:30:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 57
Words: 94,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19222567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfAllCorgis/pseuds/QueenOfAllCorgis
Summary: Angels aren't human. They're pets, toys, accessories. They're something pretty to show off at your side or in your bed. Without humans they would be lost because they just can't handle life on their own.But Roger isn't like that.From the moment Tim showed off his new pet Brian knew he was different. He isn't the passive, docile, brainless thing that angels are supposed to be. He's trapped in a life he doesn't deserve and Brian wants nothing more than to help him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So...I'm in the middle of like a million other stories but this idea wouldn't leave me alone. 
> 
> This is not a happy story full of happy things. It involves slavery, bigotry, abuse and dehumanization. I promise there will be a happy Maylor ending but things are going to be hard.
> 
> Why can I only write people being mean to Roger? 
> 
> Roger's wings are inspired by the Indian Roller's wings.

“You’ll never believe what my parents got me!” Tim’s eyes were bright and his smile was huge as he practically pulled Brian down the corridor. “It’s amazing! It’s incredible!”

 

Brian laughed, playing along with his friend’s enthusiasm. Whatever it was had to be good. They had just finished their first year at University and Tim had been bragging for weeks about how his wealthy parents were going to get him a celebratory gift. At first he had been a little bitter about it but Brian had learned to shrug it off, accepting that his friend would always be a bit spoiled. 

 

“So, I’m imagining a new bass?” Brian teased and got a scoff in response.

 

Of course not, he had just gotten one for Christmas. 

 

“Better!” Tim grinned and pulled out his keys, fumbling a bit. There was the sound of something shuffling inside and Brian frowned in confusion. Had he gotten a dog?

 

The door burst open and Tim shoved him into the spacious apartment. At first Brian wasn’t sure what he was looking at. There was a young man kneeling on the floor, head bowed so his long blond hair covered his face. He was dressed in black pants with a loose white shirt, his hands folded onto his lap. 

 

But then he saw the wings.

 

Of course Brian had seen angels before but never up close. They were always standing besides famous movie stars or other celebrities, nothing more than a pretty accessory. They symbolized the height of luxury. 

 

And this angel was very pretty. His wings were long and strong looking. The feathers themselves were an absolutely stunning mix of deep blues, teals, whites and black. Brian was at a complete loss for words, Tim’s laugh startling him out of his daze.

 

“Isn’t it lovely?” He sounded giddy, reaching down to grab the angel’s wing and pulled it out. Something strange settled in Brian’s stomach when he saw the angel flinch as if in pain. “And it’s perfectly trained and tame. My parents bought it for me straight from the breeder so it’s not all used up.”

 

The angel’s shoulders stiffened. 

 

“Um...does he have a name?” Brian stuttered out, feeling incredibly uncomfortable. 

 

“The breeder called it Roger. I think I’ll keep it unless I think of a better name,” Tim shrugged and let go of the wing, instead taking the angel’s hair and pulling his head back to show off his face. 

 

The angel’s face was unbelievably beautiful. He had a sharp jaw and high cheekbones. Thick eyelashes framed the most stunning blue eyes Brian had ever seen. For a split second, the angel’s eyes flicked up to meet his before returning to the ground.

 

“The breeder picks out the parents based on desired traits. Generations of breeding to make these beauties,” Tim preened and then started petting his hair like one would a dog. 

 

“But...why?” 

 

Tim laughed like the question was completely ridiculous. “They get the best training possible. They’re trained to be servants so it can cook and clean for me. They’re also trained to be companions in an...intimate way.”

 

The eyebrow waggle that followed just made Brian feel sick. He couldn’t even look down at the angel kneeling at their feet, dreading meeting those blank eyes again. Logically he knew that the angel kneeling at their feet was an animal. They were owned and treated like any other pet so he shouldn’t feel this way about it.

 

But...his brain wasn’t following logic at the moment. 

 

“Oh come on now Bri,” Tim teased, waving his hand lightly. “You’re not one of those angel abolitionists are you? They need to be owned. They’re too stupid to be out on their own, it would be dangerous if we weren’t here to take care of them. Look at him, he’s pretty but there isn’t much going on in that lovely head.”

 

“No, no...I’ve just never seen one close up is all,” Brian mumbled, trying to look anywhere but at the angel kneeling on the floor.

 

“Fair enough, it’s a bit overwhelming,” Tim laughed, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb across the sharp cheekbone. He tapped lightly on the angel’s cheek. “Make us some tea.”

 

“Yes master,” the angel said softly, his voice pleasant. He stood up gracefully, tucked his wings in tight behind him, and strode to the kitchen before busying himself with the kettle. 

 

Tim rambled on and on about a professor he was having a bit of a disagreement with. He sat on the couch and waved Brian over until he perched himself on the edge of the armchair. Brian had never been uncomfortable around his friend before. He had known about Tim’s attitude towards angels but had never been confronted with it. He honestly didn’t know what to do. 

 

He tried his hardest to avoid looking into the kitchen, trying to just pretend that the angel didn’t exist. However, no matter how hard he tried his gaze was drawn to the angel and he took advantage of Tim digging through his bag for a book to look over at him. 

 

The angel was busying himself with the tea, pouring it into cups and spooning sugar into them. A strange look passed over his beautiful face for a moment and he leaned forward to spit into the cup. 

 

Blue eyes slid up to meet his and Roger raised his eyebrows, as if daring him to tell Tim. A sly smile spread across his face the longer Brian stayed quiet and he put the tea cups on a little tray. 

 

“Your tea master,” Roger came over with the tray, holding it out for Tim to take. Tim took it, not pausing his story to say thank you or even acknowledge the angel standing at his side. He took a long sip and Roger’s blue eyes shone mischievously as he handed Brian his tea cup as well. 

 

“Ugh,” Tim scowled down at his cup after he had sipped at his tea. “It’s two sugars you fucking stupid bird. Fix it.”

 

Brian winced as Tim threw the still steaming tea on Roger, making him hiss and take a few steps back. He yelped in pain when Tim grabbed some of his feathers and shook his wing roughly before pushing him in the direction of the kitchen. The angel apologized profusely and grabbed the cup before scurrying off to make up another tea. 

 

“You gotta be stern in the beginning. That’s how they learn you’re the boss,” Tim explained, smiling as if he were talking about dealing with a particularly annoying dog. “Teach them the rules in the beginning and they’ll be happy serving you.”

 

“Yeah...” He looked over to see Roger spitting into the new tea, anger flashing in his eyes.

 

Maybe Roger wasn’t the brainless animal Tim seemed to think he was. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

The next time Brian saw Roger was when Tim brought him to band practice. 

 

He had been standing off to the side, chatting with Freddie as their obnoxious drummer clashed away at the drums. Although Freddie wasn’t technically part of the band Brian still considered him a valued source of feedback, something that both Tim and their drummer Bradley disagreed on. Still it didn’t seem to bother Freddie which was something Brian admired about him. 

 

They were deep into a conversation about possibly adding a piano bit to one of the songs when Tim strode in. Behind him was Roger, a blank look on his handsome face and a rather obnoxious collar around his slender throat. His wings were tucked in tight behind him, crossed at the bottom.

 

“No fucking way!” Their drummer Bradley gasped, dropping his sticks on the snare with an unpleasant clang. “You got a bloody angel!”

 

Tim grinned, grabbed Roger by the arm and pulled him over like a small child excited to show off his new toy. The two of them jabbered quickly, touching Roger’s body and wings like he wasn’t even there. Most distressingly was how the angel just stood still and let it happen.

 

“Brian! Did you see it?” Bradley asked, whirling around and waving his arm. 

 

“Brian saw it earlier,” Tim said offhandedly. “Isn’t he pretty? I got to pick him out and I couldn’t say no to a lovely blue eyed blondie.”

 

Freddie shifted uneasily next to him, obviously a bit uncomfortable. Their eyes met for a bit and Brian gave him an awkward shrug and nod, validating the discomfort they both felt. The other two kept admiring the angel who just stood with his head bowed and eyes locked blankly on the floor. 

 

“Shall we get started then?” Brian said loudly, raising his eyebrows when Tim and Bradley turned to look at him. “You were already late.”

 

“Probably too busy fucking his new toy,” Bradley sneered, getting a loud laugh from Tim and a high five.

 

“Maybe if you manage to keep time I’ll let you have him for an hour or so. Of course, you might only need a few minutes,” Tim teased like the...person? Did he even count as a person?...they were talking about having sex with wasn’t right in front of them. Still, Roger kept that impassive look on his face. 

 

Freddie on the other hand looked disgusted. He scoffed loudly, loud enough for the smile to slip off Tim’s face and a scowl to take its place. Their frontman rolled his eyes and shouldered past Freddie harder than was necessary to pick up his bass. 

 

“Oi, you,” Tim snapped his fingers at Roger who jumped, eyes flicking up. “Go...kneel over by the couch there. Wait until we’re done.”

 

Brian stared down at his guitar while Roger moved to the worn out couch in the corner of the room and slid to his knees. The strings felt sharp and cold under his fingertips as he strummed lightly. 

 

“So you’re going to stay then?” Tim bit out, glaring at Freddie. 

 

A small smile quirked at the edge of Brian’s lips when Freddie just stared unflinchingly back. “Don’t you want an ear to tell you when you’re off?” 

 

Tim bristled but got distracted by Brian starting up the song and Bradley joining in. They played just as good as always, Brian having to slow himself down or speed himself up to keep up with the drumming. It wasn’t  _ bad _ per say but Brian knew that they could be so, so much better. 

 

His solo ended and he managed to glance up, eyes sliding over to the couch. Freddie was perched on the edge but he wasn’t watching the band, he was watching Roger.

 

The angel’s focus was entirely on them. An intense look of concentration was on his face, eyes narrowed and thoughtful. His fingers rested on his knees but moved and tapped rhythmically, keeping time beautifully. 

 

“Stop, stop!” Tim waved his hand and the music screeched to a halt. “Okay, we’ve slowed down too much. Bradley, play that last bit again.”

 

The drumming sounded clanky and stilted but Roger still tapped out the beat, his fingers sliding elegantly.

 

“You don’t need that beat there, you could maybe...roll it a bit?” Freddie piped up and Tim’s jaw tightened. “Like Roger is doing here.”

 

That was clearly the wrong thing to say. 

 

Roger went perfectly stiff, fingers curling under his palms as if to hide them. He shrank down a bit when the attention was turned to him and winced as Tim burst out laughing.

 

“Oh really? Roger?” A nasty smile spread across his face and he strode over to where the angel knelt, grabbing the back of his shirt and hoisting him to his feet. “Well come on then. If  _ Freddie  _ thinks you’ll be so great you should try it.”

 

Roger stumbled over his own feet, wings fanning out to try and keep balance. He stammered as he was pulled to the drum kit. “Master, please. I wasn’t...I didn’t...”

 

“Come on now Tim, don’t be an ass,” Freddie also jumped to his feet but Tim pushed Bradley aside and shoved Roger into the stool. The angel stared up at him nervously and flinched when Tim thrust the drum sticks in his direction.

 

Something cold settled in Brian’s stomach. How often did Tim hurt Roger under the guise of training him? It had to be often for him to act so skittish. The lost expression on his face was enough to make Brian feel a bit nauseous. 

 

“Go on,” Tim nodded and Roger curled his slender fingers around the drumsticks. When he still didn’t do anything he got a solid whack on the back of the head. “I said go on!”

 

The angel roll his wrists a few times like he was testing the weight of them before letting one hit the snare. The sound was weak and soft and his shoulders curled into themselves. 

 

“No, no,” Freddie shook his head but his voice was calm and kind. Blue eyes flicked up to meet his. “Do it like before, when you were tapping with your fingers.” 

 

A moment passed before Roger sucked in a deep breath, thin shoulders rising and falling. He then moved to hit the drums and Brian’s mouth dropped. He hit them with a fluidity that he had never seen before, rolling through the beats in a way that made them sound musical. 

 

He was a true natural talent.

 

It was clear that Tim also thought so as the smirk faded off his face. A new, scary expression flickered and Tim grabbed the drumsticks, smacking the back of Roger’s knuckles so hard he yelped. 

 

“See? Rubbish,” he snapped, pointing to the floor by the couch and glaring as Roger hurried to his previous spot, cradling his hand to his chest. “What next Freddie? Should we get a dog to try it next?”

 

“You’re bitter because he’s good,” Freddie glared and crossed his arms over his chest. “Really, really good.”

 

There was a slight shift, a straightening of the spine, and Roger almost looked like he was preening at the praise.  

 

“He’s good for looking pretty and taking cock. Now, let’s stop playing around,” Tim snarled and hit a note on his bass that screeched through the amp. 

 

They continued through the practice without any more interruptions but now Brian noticed all the little flaws. He noticed how Bradley could hardly keep tempo and how the heavy handed way he hit the drums sounded harsh. He wasn’t as good as Roger, not by a long shot. 

 

Practice ended and Brian busied himself with putting away his Old Lady. The previous incident seemed to have been forgotten as Tim and Bradley chatted happily, not even looking towards the angel still kneeling on the ground. 

 

He was going to say something.

 

He had to.

 

With a deep breath, Brian picked up his case and tiptoed around wires to where Roger was kneeling. Blue eyes flicked up to him for a moment before returning to the ground. 

 

“You were good...amazing really,” Brian whispered and the angel’s shoulders went stiff. “Honestly the best I’ve ever heard. He’s wrong about you, you know? You are good.”

 

Roger was clearly trying to think through possible responses, glancing up at Tim who was still engaged in conversation. He sucked in a shaky breath and turned his face up to fully look at Brian.

 

“Thank you sir. You are also...amazing. I was watching you,” his soft voice made something warm bloomed in Brian’s stomach and they shared a smile. 

 

It only lasted for a moment before Roger bowed his head again but the warm feeling continued for much, much longer. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Disordered eating, forced starving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad you guys like the story so much!! Here were a few questions that some people had that I wanted to answer:
> 
> Phoenix_Queen: In this verse can angels have children with humans or is it exclusively with other angels?  
> -So angels are an entirely different species all together. They can't have children with humans, only with each other. That is why some humans started breeding them. 
> 
> Nastyhobbit: Btw, in this AU, can angels ever be "free" or they must be "owned" by someone? What happens when their owner dies? Do they go to some angel retirement home, get new owners or die along with the dead owner?  
> -Angels are technically animals in this AU. It's messed up but that's the way it is. Think of a dog (ew I feel icky for saying that). They go to a shelter if their owner dies or throws them out, so do angels. Unfortunately people don't like "used" angels and often times they are put in horribly abusive situations and die early. It's part of the reason Roger acts so submissive. He doesn't like where he is but he absolutely doesn't want to end up there. Angels can be bought and sold however but they can never be free or have the same rights as a person.

Their door stuck.

 

It was something Brian hated about the stupid little apartment he and Freddie shared. He had to juggle the knob a few times and then shoulder it open, usually stumbling into the foyer right after. No matter how many times he tried to fix it there was never any change. It was frustrating to say the least.

 

Still, it was a constant. He was used to forcing in the keys, shaking the doorknob, and then shoving the door open.

 

He wasn’t used to Freddie sitting at the small dining table having tea with a young man.

 

“Brian!” Freddie beamed at him, motioning towards the man. “This is John! He’s our new roommate!”

 

That made him freeze in place. “Roommate?”

 

“Yeah! We have a bloody four bedroom flat, thought it would be smart to start bringing in some help on the rent,” Freddie looked beyond pleased with himself. “Plus, he plays bass.”

 

“Oh no. No, no, no,” Brian shook his head, quickly turning to the young man. “No offense Jim, I’m sure you are wonderful and a delight but we are _not_ looking for a new roommate.”

 

“It’s _John,”_ Freddie snapped and John shifted awkwardly in his chair. “And he’s already got his stuff moved into the other room. Plus he paid this month’s rent in advance. He’s an…science student? Anyway, I’m sure you can talk about all kinds of nerdy things.”

 

“Electrical engineering,” John mumbled.

 

“Which is practically identical to astronomy,” Brian rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “I know what you’re doing Fred. You want me to leave Smile so we can start our own band.”

 

“Moi?” Freddie looked scandalized. “That’s crazy…I mean, it does make sense. I can sing, you can play guitar, and John is quite good at his bass…”

 

John seemed to perk up at the idea of a band but shrank back down when Brian shook his head. “With no drummer?”

 

“We can get Roger,” Freddie leaned back in his chair, a smirk on his face. It was clear he had thought this through.

 

“Roger?”

 

“Is Roger any good?” John asked, looking between the two of them.

 

“He’s great! A beginning but you can tell talent. You can teach a song, you can’t teach talent,” Freddie waggled a finger in John’s face, making the younger man go a bit cross eyed. “He’s perfect.”

 

“He can’t play with us. What am I supposed to say to Tim? ‘Hey Tim, I’m quitting the band. Also, can I borrow your angel so he can learn how to play the drums for us?’” Brian argued and Freddie scoffed, waving his hand.

 

“Oh…I thought this Roger was a real person,” John scrunched his nose up a bit in distaste.

 

Brian wanted to snap back that he _was_ a real person but…that wasn’t exactly true. He let out a long, long sigh and tipped his head back. “Fine. Welcome to the flat John.”

 

“Thank you, I feel very welcome,” the dry sarcasm in his voice made Brian clench his jaw.

 

Freddie clapped his hands and grinned. “I knew you would see it my way. You’ll come around on the Roger front too. I invited Tim over for dinner and we’ll discuss it then.”

 

Honestly, sometimes Brian wondered how he hadn’t strangled Freddie yet.

 

“Do you have any idea how inappropriate that is?” He sputtered but knew it wouldn’t be any use. Once Freddie made up his mind that was that. He was just going to have to deal with the awkwardness.

 

It wasn’t long after before there was a knock at the door. Brian slunk to open it, dreading the whole evening, and John followed behind him. The young man’s eyes were bright and curious, neck craned to try and see around Brian’s tall frame.

 

“I’ve never seen an angel before,” he whispered. “Well…only in pictures or movies.”

 

Brian gave him a tight smile and opened the door. Part of him hoped that Tim would leave Roger at home but of course he wouldn’t miss an opportunity to show off. Tim of course was dressed smartly, a bright smile on his face and stepped into the flat as if he owned it. He snapped his fingers and Roger followed him in.

 

“Tim,” Brian nodded at him and then turned his attention to the blond. “And hello Roger.”

 

The angel seemed surprised to be addressed directly but offered a tiny smile in response. John stared at him, slack jawed and in awe. It would have been funny, but Brian was already tired of this whole situation.

 

“This is our new flatmate, John,” Brian motioned to the younger man and walked into the room, wanting to give himself a bit of space. Instantly John jumped on them, his curiosity apparent in how he stared at the wings.

 

“Hi, nice to meet you,” John said distractedly. “The feathers are lovely, may I?”

 

“Of course!” Tim preened, obviously thrilled to show off to someone new. He grabbed Roger’s wing and stretched it out, accidentally twisting his fingers a bit in the soft downy feathers along the bone. Roger gasped and squirmed in discomfort, grimacing. This angered Tim enough that he wrapped his hand around the bone and twisted until Roger cried out in pain. “Straighten it out! He wants to see!”

 

But John clearly didn’t anymore. The curiosity and fascination turned to horror and the young man took a step back, eyes wide. He looked incredibly uncomfortable, only barely touching one feather when Tim stretched out the wing.

 

“Hmm, lovely,” he mumbled, showing none of the enthusiasm as before.

 

They ate Chinese take away around the kitchen table while Roger knelt at his master’s feet and kept his eyes on the floor. Brian offered to get the angel a plate and got a loud laugh in response.

 

“Really? No, he’s on a strict diet. Won’t be nearly as pretty if he’s fat, will he?”

 

John put his chopsticks down at that, looking uncomfortably at the other two. It was a bit of a relief to see that John was clearly disapproving of the way Roger was treated too.

 

He even cleared his throat and sank down awkwardly in his chair when Tim grabbed him by the collar and shoved him in the direction of the kitchen, demanding that he wash the dishes when they were finished. Just a moment after Roger had gone into the kitchen Brian stood up too, saying he needed another drink.

 

The angel was scrubbing at a plate with a sponge but glanced up when Brian entered. “Did you need something from me sir?”

 

“No…I was just getting a beer,” Brian motioned awkwardly towards the refrigerator and Roger’s eyes widened.

 

“Of course, I can bring it out to you sir,” he grabbed a dish towel and started wiping his hands.

 

“No, no, I can do it,” the angel paused but resumed washing the dishes when Brian opened the fridge door. There was a beat of silence and then Brian took a deep breath. “Do you want something to eat?”

 

Roger went perfectly stiff, staring at the plate in his hand. “I am fine sir.”

 

“Seriously, it’s no problem!” Brian opened the fridge again and pulled out a little container of dumplings. “We always order extra. It’s yours if you want it.”

 

Roger’s pale eyes flicked nervously from the container in Brian’s hand to the closed door where he could hear Tim’s too loud laughter. Understanding hit Brian like a truck and he stared at the food, feeling a bit stupid.

 

“When was the last time you ate?” He asked softly and he could see feathers fluttering nervously.

 

“Two days ago sir. I made Master angry and he punished me,” something sick and rotten settled in Brian’s stomach.

 

“What the hell did you do to earn not eating?” He blurted and Roger winced, worrying his lip between his teeth.

 

The angel shifted a few times, clearly not wanting to say but his training won out. He couldn’t not answer a human who asked him a question. “I was taking a nap and lost track of time. Master came home from class and I wasn’t kneeling by the door.”

 

“So, he didn’t let you eat for two days?” Brian blurted and Roger’s eyes dropped to the floor. “That fucking stupid. Please eat this, I promise I won’t tell Tim.”

 

Roger didn’t take the box, but he stared at it with such a longing that Brian’s heart broke.

 

“Please,” he tried, choosing to use the power he had over Roger and feeling a bit ill about it. “If I command you to do it will you have to?”

 

“Please don’t,” Roger looked up, eyes wide.

 

“I’ll worry about you all night if you don’t eat it,” he tried to keep his voice soft and gentle, smiling when Roger’s fingers twitched. “I swear on my mother’s life that I won’t tell Tim.”

 

He could have cheered when Roger reached up and took the container. It seemed like half a second had passed from when he opened it to when he had two dumplings stuffed into his mouth. It was obvious that he didn’t have any healthy relationship with food. There was no way he got food on a regular schedule or in any proper amount.

 

“Slow down, you’ll choke,” Brian said softly, and Roger looked up at him, cheeks bulging slightly. He blushed and swallowed around the food in his mouth. Then he finished up the food a bit slower but with no less enthusiasm. When the container was done, he stared down at it. “Do you want anything else?”

 

“Oh no sir,” Roger shook his head, awkwardly standing there until Brian took the container and threw it away. He wrapped his arms around his stomach and took a deep breath before straightening his shoulders. “You are very kind sir. I’d like to thank you, may I?”

 

Brian raised an eyebrow and nodded. He got a small smile and then Roger started sinking to his knees in front of him. Panic shot through Brian like lightning and he frantically grabbed Roger’s arm. Wings shot out in a sudden attempt to balance himself and a plate clattered into the sink.

 

“No! I don’t want that!” Brian stuttered out, getting wide scared eyes in return.

 

“I…I’m sorry sir, I thought you…I am so sorry,” he looked terrified.

 

“It’s fine! I’m not angry and I won’t tell Tim…I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You don’t have to do anything in return,” he knew his face was burning red. “Especially not for a few measly dumplings.”

 

Roger swallowed thickly and looked down at the ground. Brian could have sworn that his eyes looked overly bright but then he put his blank mask back on and smiled pleasantly. “Thank you very much for the food sir. It is very generous and kind.”

 

Still feeling a bit uncomfortable about the whole situation Brian just gave him a tight smile. Without another word he grabbed one of the plates and helped Roger finish cleaning. He tried to ignore how Roger kept sneaking glances like he was almost afraid he would disappear.

 

“Where the hell were you? Doesn’t take that long to get a drink,” Tim asked when he walked back into the room. For a moment, Brian was struck dumb. He tried desperately to find a reason that he could have spent so long in the kitchen and came up completely blank.

 

“I’m sorry Master, it was me,” Roger breezed into the room after him, returning to his kneeling position by Tim’s feet. “I had trouble finding the cleaning supplies and containers for the leftovers.”

 

“So, you made Brian your servant then?” Tim’s voice grew dark and he grabbed a handful of Roger’s hair, shaking it hard. “You were too stupid to figure it out yourself?”

 

John jumped, hands gripping the side of the table so tight his knuckles turned white.

 

“So,” Freddie cleared his throat, breaking the tense atmosphere. “Let’s chat about what we’re really here for. We want to borrow Roger.”

 

Tim let out a bark of laughter. “Really? A gangbang then? Didn’t see you chaps as the type.”

 

“No,” Freddie’s eyes turned icy. “I was impressed with his drumming. I want him to be the drummer in our band, we can teach him what he needs to know.”

 

Roger’s head snapped up and his eyes went comically wide. Tim burst out laughing, curling in on himself as he wheezed for breath. “You’ve got to be shitting me. You want _him_ to play in your band? What band?”

 

“The one John, Brian and I are starting,” the laughter stopped.

 

Tim looked at Brian, eyes narrowing. “You’re quitting the band?”

 

“No!” Brian hissed, once again cursing Freddie for speaking for him. “I mean…I can do both. I can play in both bands, we’ll just make sure the rehearsals and gigs don’t overlap.”

 

“We can even open for Smile,” John added, obviously trying to avoid looking at the angel kneeling next to him. “It’ll be different, a crowd pleaser if he plays with us. Plus, we can talk about how he’s yours and of course give you a cut of the money. It would give you some intrigue.”

 

John was much cleverer than Brian had thought before. He felt a bit of gratitude towards the young man, knowing that he was on their side.

 

“You really think he could learn? Brian had to help him find the fucking soap,” Tim chuckled and dropped his hand on top of Roger’s head. “He’s pretty stupid.”

 

“We want to start a unique band. No one else has an angel in their band. Think of it as an experiment,” Freddie held his hands out. “I’ve also read that you should keep your angel mentally stimulated to avoid them becoming neurotic.”

 

Tim looked thoughtful and turned to Roger. “If I say yes will you be good? You’ll listen and be respectful?”

 

Roger nodded frantically. “I’ll be good Master.”

 

With a long sigh Tim leaned back in his chair and shrugged. “Fine. Maybe he needs a bit of time out of the flat. He’s getting a bit frigid.”

 

“Splendid!” Freddie lit up. They set up a time for their first rehearsal, awkwardly drank for a bit, and then Tim got up to leave. Roger gave them a truly brilliant smile as he followed his master out the door, hope shining in his eyes.

 

The moment the door closed John let out a long breath and sagged forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Jesus Christ, is that…normal?”

 

“Unfortunately,” Freddie grumbled, and John looked incredibly sad. “We haven’t talked about it yet but we all agree that we will treat Roger like a person right?”

 

John and Brian both agreed.

 

“I didn’t know they were treated like that,” John mumbled. “I didn’t realize…I wasn’t expecting to see _someone_ when I looked into his eyes.”

 

Brian nodded sadly and sighed. At least Roger would get a bit of a break. He would be treated like he mattered and maybe, maybe he would see that bright smile again.

 

Roger had a spark of fire in him and Brian would be damned if he let it go out.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day?? 
> 
> Honestly I'm trapped in the airport on a eight hour layover and couldn't get this story out of my head. Enjoy!

Roger couldn’t sleep.

 

Normally sleep didn’t come easily for him anyway. He was either listening anxiously for his master’s footsteps, aching in places he’d rather not think about, or just lost in a swirl of dark thoughts. This night was different. He had never been so _excited_ he couldn’t sleep before.

 

The next day he would get to practice with his new…well, he would get to be with the band.

 

Music had always been something so special to him. In the nursery his mother had held him tight and sang songs from her childhood that her mother had learned from her mother and so on. The words were old and in the ancient tongue, but she made sure he knew what they meant.

 

He would hum them to himself as he cried himself to sleep as a child in the training kennels, trying desperately not to forget a mother that he would never see again.

 

But now…now he would actually get to play music. He would get to feel the beat pulse through him and take him away from the reality he had been forced into. That thought alone made him smile into his hands, trying to stay quiet so as not to wake the human sleeping in the bed.

 

Plus, he would get to play with Brian.

 

Brian, _Master May a traitorous part of his brain hissed,_ was like no one he had ever met. Ever since he had been ripped from his mother’s arms as a child he had been reminded of one thing; he was not their equal. He was a pet, a shiny pretty thing to please them and that was his only purpose.

 

He still remembered resisting when he was younger and the horrible shocks that flowed through his collar. They would never beat him. Oh no, couldn’t mar that pretty skin or face.

 

It just became easier to act. He seethed in his mind but smiled blandly like he had been taught. Brian was one of the few who could see beyond that mask. He knew it from the moment he saw the horror in his eyes and the understanding that followed seeing him spit in the tea. Brian hated it too and that was powerful.

 

But, Brian didn’t own him.

 

Brian’s name wasn’t the one written on his papers or collar. Brian wasn’t the one who shoved him to his knees. Brian wasn’t the one who called him lovely one moment and stupid the next.

 

Brian would never do that.

 

At that thought Roger shook his head, head thumping lightly against the wood floor he was forced to sleep on. That was a dangerous thought. He couldn’t fall into the trap of dreaming what-if. That only led to heartbreak.

 

He would take what he could get.

 

The next morning, after Roger had taken care of Tim’s ‘needs’, he followed his master to the front door. He tried desperately not to show how eager he was. Just as they were about to leave Tim turned to him and he quickly lowered his eyes.

 

“I’m doing you a favor,” Tim’s voice was low. “I don’t have to let you go on your little playdate you know?”

 

“I know Master, I’m very grateful.”

 

“Mmhmm, I expect some repayment for my kind deed. No more pulling away from me, no more crying, no more whining. You will do what I say, whatever I say, when I say it, or you will be confined to this flat. Understand,” Roger nodded, and Tim tapped his cheek. “And you are to do whatever the boys ask. If they want to fuck you over the piano, then you bend over. You’re not special Roger, you’re not a member of that band. You’re…a piece of jewelry, something to make them seem flashy. You’re a piece of equipment and nothing more.”

 

Something painful twisted in Roger’s stomach but he nodded. “I understand Master.”

 

“Good! Let’s go then! I have class to get to!”

 

The car ride to the rehearsal space was blessedly short. By the time they got there the rest of the group was already set up, looking a bit annoyed as Tim strode in. Brian gave Roger a warm, happy smile which he returned happily.

 

“Mind dropping him off when you’re done? I’d tell him to find his own way back, but I doubt he could,” Roger had gotten used to the sneered insults. “Have fun boys.”

 

He closed the door behind him, and Roger suddenly felt very, very lost.

 

“Alright! The band’s all here!” Brian clapped his hands, clearly forced enthusiasm in his voice.

 

What the hell was he doing here? Why would they even want him here? Roger had never touched drumsticks in his life before that one practice. There was no way possible they would have the patience and understanding to teach him a whole new skill.

 

Freddie waved him over to the suddenly imposing looking drum kit and motioned for him to sit behind it. “Alright dear, here’s your sticks. Let me tell you about the parts of a drum.”

 

It felt weird and awkward. Brian and John chatted quietly in the background, occasionally strumming their instruments, but Roger felt like all eyes were on him. He scrunched down a bit in his seat when Freddie leaned over him. Usually when someone wanted to _teach_ him something it was hardly pleasant.

 

“Here’s your snare,” Freddie took his hand in his own and rapped the stick on the head of the snare drum, making a short sharp sound. “You can use the sticks to roll and hit the rims and whatnot, I’ll let you experiment with that.”

 

It felt strangely natural. Roger’s hands were a bit sloppy in the beginning, but he was able to make a slight roll after a few moments, sending a thrill of excitement through him. Freddie looked impressed which only made the pride flare brighter in his chest.

 

Freddie took him through the rest of the drum kit, patiently letting him try out each part. When he had somewhat gotten a bit comfortable, he had him try a few beats and combinations. It wasn’t perfect but Roger had always prided himself on being a fast learner.

 

“Alright!” Freddie sighed, wiping his brow when Roger managed to get a particularly difficult rhythm in. “I think that’s good enough for today!”

 

Roger blinked at him, stomach sinking. “But sir, you didn’t get a chance to play or…or anything.”

 

With a wave of his hand, Freddie sat on the worn out couch in the corner of the room. “Eh, that’s alright. We’ll get you getting the basics first and then we’ll put it all together.”

 

“I don’t want to be a bother,” Roger clutched the drumsticks tighter. He was happy to be here with the other musicians but not if it meant them waiting around for him to improve.

 

“You’re not a bother at all.” Brian spoke up. “You enjoyed yourself didn’t you? You’re clearly a natural and a quick study. It’s easy to teach someone so smart.”

 

No one had ever called him smart before.

 

He held the drumstick like he was afraid someone would take it. He knew without a doubt, without even a question, that this was where he belonged.

 

“Besides, we have to get to know each other. A band can’t function as strangers you know,” Freddie leaned forward, eyes sparkling. “Tell us about yourself Roger. Did you grow up in London?”

 

Roger hesitated. No one cared to know about him. He had never had to share this part of his life before. Still, he felt an overwhelming urge to tell them. “No sir, I was born in a breeding house out in the country and then transferred to a training kennel when I was ten. My Master bought me and brought me to London.”

 

“First, none of this sir stuff,” Freddie waggled a finger. “Second, breeding house?”

 

“Yes si…yes, that’s where the angels are bred,” he said it matter-of-factly, not missing how John winced horribly and steppe back a bit. “I stayed with my mother until they sold me to the training kennel.”

 

“Are you still in contact with you mum?” Brian asked, frowning.

 

“No, she had already had a few fledglings by that point. After me the breeders tried to get her bred again but it never took. I’m sure by now she’s past her usefulness,” it was blunt and horrible, but it was a fact of life Roger had long accepted. “I know she’s passed on to Rhye by now.”

 

“Rhye?” Freddie’s face had gone a bit pale.

 

“It’s a word in our old tongue…it’s where souls go when their bodies die,” Roger shrank down a bit in his chair. “A place with no Masters and no chains.”

 

“I’m sorry, they killed your mother because she couldn’t keep popping out babies?” John said in a shriek, surprising them all. “That’s fucking barbaric!”

 

“John,” Brian hissed but the youngest man shook his head wildly.

 

“I’m…disgusted! Christ, why aren’t you angry about it?” John seethed, pacing a bit.

 

“I understand it’s a part of life. When I don’t look the way I do anymore…when I’m past being useful to my Master, I’m sure I’ll get the injection too,” Roger shrugged and it felt like the air had rushed out of the room.

 

Then John sat down on the couch next to Freddie and cried.

 

Icy, burning fear raced through Roger and he felt himself start to shake. What had he said? Why did he have to open his stupid mouth? He had just done what they had asked and now they were all upset. Tim was going to be so furious.

 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry sir, I…I didn’t mean to upset you.”

 

“It’s not you Rog,” Brian’s voice was thick and when he looked over he was dismayed to see tears sparkling in his eyes as well. “You’ve done nothing wrong. It’s the injustice of the whole thing. You…you don’t deserve this.”

 

He had never thought about it that way before. His existence was just the way things were, it wasn’t if he deserved it or not.

 

“That’s why we’re upset. Roger, look at me,” his eyes snapped to Freddie’s obediently. “When you are with us there are no Masters. You are a part of this band just like anyone else. I hope eventually you could even become a friend.”

 

Roger’s chest hitched with a short breath.

 

Then Freddie continued, eyes blazing with passion. “Your thoughts will be respected here. Your opinions will matter. You will never be punished for speaking your mind or doing…well anything. You’re a _person_ here.”

 

Those four words cut through Roger with the intensity of a knife. He could feel his wings tremble a bit and pulled them a bit closer in on his body, not want the others to see how that had impacted him. He was a person to them? He mattered?

 

“I’ll get better at drumming,” he said softly, lifting his chin. “I promise.”

 

“That is the least of our concerns,” Brian walked up behind him and gently rested a hand on his shoulder. “Honestly Roger, you have talent and that’s a great start but we don’t want to play with some mindless robot. We want you to be yourself here…like that time I saw you spit in Tim’s tea.”

 

He felt his cheeks burn when Freddie choked on his own breath and burst out laughing. “What?”

 

“I…I don’t…I was angry,” Roger curled his wings around himself slightly, dislodging Brian’s hand. “It wasn’t right.”

 

“No, but he fucking deserved it,” Brian gave him a watery smile. “You need fire to be good…to be great. This is a safe place to let it out.”

 

For the first time in his life Roger trusted humans not to hurt him. He found himself relaxing in their presence, attempting a few more beats but mostly just smiling along with their jokes. It nearly broke his heart as they loaded their equipment in the van and started driving to Tim’s flat.

 

It was awkwardly silence as John drove; Roger’s wings bent strangely to make room. Finally, Brian let out a long breath and turned to meet his eye. “Are you happy at Tim’s?”

 

“Of course, my Master takes care of me,” the answer came easily, as rehearsed as it was. Then he saw the sadness in Brian’s eyes and had to look away.

 

They waved Roger off at the front door, promising to set up another practice session over the weekend. Tim smiled blandly, grabbed Roger’s arm, and pulled him into the flat before slamming the door shut.

 

“Did you have fun?” He asked, voice full of venom.

 

“I…” Roger’s mind turned over as he tried to think of the appropriate response. “I did what they asked of me. I missed being by your side Master.”

 

The ice in Tim’s eyes thawed and he smiled. “Good boy, now go to the bedroom. You owe me a bit of a thank you.”

 

That night Roger curled up under his thin blanket on the floor. He could feel bruises blooming under his skin where Tim had gripped too tightly, clearly feeling possessive, but he ignored them. Instead, he ran his fingertips along the beginning of calluses forming on his hands.

 

If he closed he eyes tight enough and held his breath he could feel his own heartbeat and pretend that it was the steady beat of the drums. He could easily picture Freddie’s encouraging smile, John’s kind eyes, and Brian’s sweet words.

 

He could pretend that he belonged to someone who actually…

 

No, that was a dangerous path.

 

He couldn’t let impossible dreams break his heart.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Forced intoxication, vomiting, abuse, Tim's a jerk

Roger loved playing with every fiber of his being.

 

He had started memorizing their set list, helped mostly by John playing the rhythm a few times on his bass and following along. The others encouraged him to experiment and try out a few different combinations of sounds. It took a few practices before he felt comfortable enough giving it a try and he was quite proud to say that it was _good_. He was good and he was only getting better.

 

As much as Roger loved playing, the part of practice he really looked forward to was the end. Freddie insisted on stopping a bit early and just talking. He called it their bonding time and for a few minutes Roger got to have a conversation with people who treated him like he mattered.

 

This time Freddie had a bit of a different idea. He stopped practice extra early and clapped his hands. “Let’s wrap it up boys and go for a pint.”

 

Brian let out a sigh and rolled his shoulders, shooting an easy smile at Roger. “I could get a pint. Roger?”

 

_Do what they tell you to do._

With Tim’s words echoing in his mind he nodded and helped the rest of the band gather up their things. It felt strange to follow them down the street to a nearby pub, like he was just another one of the guys. In an attempt to be as subtle as possible Roger pulled his wings in so tight that they trembled a bit with strain.

 

“Sorry boys, I got no kneeling pillows,” a red headed woman behind the bar raised an eyebrow at him and he lowered his eyes automatically. “He’s gonna have to kneel just on the floor.”

 

“It’s fine, he’ll be sitting at the table with us,” Freddie called over his shoulder as he led the group to the back of the pub. They passed by empty tables and eventually got to a booth. Brian squeezed his shoulder and motioned for him to slide into the booth first.

 

Would his master be angry? He was expected here to pretend to be just like the them. Was this a test?

 

“What’s wrong?” He could hardly stand to look at Brian’s warm eyes.

 

“I’ve…never sat at a table before…” he whispered. Roger could hear the sharp intake of breath, hating that he upset Brian. He seemed to upset a lot of people.

 

“Well today you do,” John said, sliding in opposite of Roger.

 

As soon as he got into the booth, he realized why Freddie had chosen it. The back of the booth was high enough that it hid his wings. For just a bit he could pretend that he belonged here, that he was part of this.

 

The redhead came over to their table, not even trying to hide how she stared at Roger. He sank down, training telling him that he had to appear lesser than the humans around him. The other members of the band seemed perfectly fine with him pretending to be their equal, but others might not be.

 

“Hello love,” Freddie gave her a charming smile. “We’ll do four pints of lager please.”

 

“Four?” She raised her overtweezed eyebrows.

 

“Four.”

 

With a flick of the ponytail she vanished and walked off to the bar. In no time she came back with a tray and placed the beers in front of the three humans before hesitating. It took an annoyed flick of the wrist in Roger’s direction from John before she put down the pint and scurried away.

 

“To Queen!” Freddie lifted his glass, followed by the others. Roger quickly copied to gesture and smiled when Brian lightly clinked their glasses together. He was still smiling as he took a sip of the beer.

 

It. Was. Vile.

 

As soon as the bitter, almost soapy taste filled his mouth Roger sputtered. He shook his head shortly, putting the glass down with a heavy thud. Sharp coughs ripped from his lungs and the taste lingered unpleasantly.

 

“Not your taste?” Freddie giggled at his reaction. “I suppose it is an acquired taste. Have you never had a beer before?”

 

“No, it’s disgusting,” Roger scowled but picked the glass up and had another sip, shuddering at the taste. With a laugh Brian plucked the pint out of his hand and put it down.

 

“Don’t drink it if you don’t like it!” He grinned.

 

“But Mr. Mercury bought it for me!” Roger felt a twinge of panic. Freddie had bought him that beer with his own money with the intention of him drinking it. Even though he hated the taste he would do what they wanted him to do.

 

“First off, I’ve told you to call me Freddie,” his voice was warm, not angry in the least. “Second, I’ll drink it so it is not wasted. I’ll get you something else.”

 

Before he could argue Freddie flagged down the waitress, again giving her a grin. “We are going to need a lemonade as well. And, maybe some food?”

 

Roger felt his stomach twist at the idea of food. His master had him stick to a strict diet of simple proteins and the occasional vegetable. Hunger was constant but he couldn’t accept food that his master hadn’t approved of. He had been lucky with the dumplings Brian had snuck him.

 

“Roger? What do you want?” All eyes were on him and he blinked, not realizing that they had already placed their orders.

 

“I am fine,” he ignored the ache and put on a smile.

 

“He’ll have a steak pie with mash,” Freddie told the woman who just pursed her lips.

 

She was gone before Roger could say anything, but the look Freddie gave him left no room for arguing. He just slumped down, anxious as anything as his new drink arrived. Just like before the woman put the drink down a bit away from Roger so someone else had to hand it to him.

 

The lemonade was so much better than the beer. It was bubbly, sweet, and a bit tarte. His master never let him have anything but water, so he excitedly sipped on his treat, noticing how Freddie beamed at him.

 

They talked about their upcoming gig, excitedly planning out outfits and the setlist. Roger felt something warm and happy fill his chest when he spoke up and they all stopped to listen. Maybe they weren’t just pretending that he belonged. Maybe he actually did.

 

By the time the food came he was tapping out a rhythm he had come up with for one of the songs he was working on. Freddie nodded along enthusiastically and didn’t even look at the girl as she placed their food in front of them, choosing instead to focus on what Roger was trying to explain.

 

He almost didn’t want to stop but the smell of the food stole his attention completely.

 

The pie had a beautiful crisp crust and was covered in steaming gravy. He could see the butter glistening in the mounds of potatoes and on the pile of peas. It was everything he wasn’t allowed to eat and it smelled _divine._

_I’ll just eat a little. Just a few bites to satisfy the others and I’ll be okay._

But as soon as he took a bite he couldn’t stop. The buttery crust melted in his mouth and the potatoes were deliciously fluffy. Roger practically shoveled the food in his mouth, partially scared that the food would be taken away from him. Every cell in his body sang out as he finally got enough food in him.

 

Brian watched him eat with a bright smile on his face, just like he had when he had scarfed down the dumplings. John even started putting some of his chips on Roger’s plate, encouraging him to eat them.

 

_If they were my masters I would have enough to eat._

The though hit him hard and he had to pause, swallowing heavily. Was he betraying his master by enjoying this? Was he meant to enjoy any of this?

 

“Stop thinking so much,” Brian said softly, not interrupting the conversation that John and Freddie were having. “Just eat.”

 

That was easy. Roger could do commands and he could follow them. By the time he finished his stomach pressed uncomfortably against his waistband and he was full for the first time in his life. It was also the first time he had a meal with people, laughing and talking, instead of kneeling on the floor beside them.

 

And like always it was over too soon.

 

Freddie, John, and Brian bade him goodbye at Tim’s flat. Roger smiling, holding onto their promises of a practice soon and Brian’s slight squeeze on his shoulder. He felt light on his feet as he entered the flat, dropping to his knees as soon as he realized Tim was waiting on the other side of the door.

 

“I called the music hall you were supposed to be practicing in. I wanted to ask if Brian could bring a book to me but imagine my surprise when I was told that you had left an hour earlier. Wherever could you have gone?” Tim’s voice was calm which just sent a shiver down Roger’s spine.

 

“Mr. Mercury wanted to go to a pub.”

 

“Did he? Did he have you kneel at his feet?” Tim asked and Roger hesitated. “He didn’t, did he?”

 

“No Master.”

 

“Did he give you liquor and food?” Now his voice was tight with anger and Roger stared at his hands.

 

“I…he gave me a beer, but I didn’t like it,” he trailed off and winced at Tim clearing his throat. “But they did give me food. I would have refused but…you told me to do what they said, and they told me to eat.”

 

“I told you to do what they said but I thought you would have enough fucking brains in your head to realize that I wouldn’t want that. I don’t want you getting fat and spoiled,” Tim’s eyes flashed dangerously and fear started crawling up his throat. “Did you like it? Did you like them getting you drunk and fat?”

 

“I didn’t drink,” Roger didn’t realize he had talked back until a sharp slap had his head snap to the side.

 

Tim grabbed him by the base of his left wing and pulled him to his feet. Frantic, Roger scrambled behind him as Tim dragged him to the bathroom and threw him to the tile. Roger gasped as his knees slammed into the hard floor, already feeling bruises forming.

 

“Don’t fucking move,” Tim snarled and left the room.

 

Roger stared at the door, terrified. What the hell was Tim going to do to him?

 

Tim stormed back into the room with a large bottle of vodka. He uncapped the bottle, grabbed a handful of Roger’s hair, and forced it between his teeth. Roger gagged and choked as the burning liquid poured into his mouth and spilled down his chin.

 

“You like getting drunk with your new friends? Let’s see how much you like getting drunk,” Tim pulled the bottle back far enough for him to gasp in a breath and the forced him to gulp down a few more mouthfuls.

 

“Master please,” Roger sobbed the next time Tim decided to let him have a slight break.

 

Tim threw the almost empty bottle on the ground, making it shatter next to Roger into a million pieces. “You’re sleeping in here tonight. Think about how much you like drinking with your friends and if next time you’ll do it again.”

 

He shoved Roger back into the glass, making him cut his forearm. The door slammed behind him and the angel sagged against the wall. He tried to breath deeply, trying desperately to calm himself. Even so, it didn’t take long before his mind started to get a bit fuzzy.

 

Fuzziness turned to cloudiness and the air felt thick. Roger tried closing his eyes but then forced them open when the world swooped nauseatingly around him. For a short time, it wasn’t so bad. The pains and aches and fear melted away into nothing. He could just let his mind lazily drift.

 

Then, it got so much worse.

 

The first wave of nausea took him by surprise and Roger barely made it to the toilet before vomiting harshly. He choked and sputtered, trying to heave in a breath of air around the bile burning his throat. Tears sprang to his eyes as his body purged the vodka and (his traitorous mind reminded him) the meal Freddie had kindly bought him.

 

The rest of the night was spent sobbing over the toilet, either throwing up or slumped against it in exhaustion.

 

When Tim came in the next morning Roger felt worse than he ever had. The human tutted softly and combed his fingers through sweat soaked hair, tipping Roger’s chin up so their eyes could meet.

 

“Did you learn your lesson?” He asked softly and Roger nodded, every movement agony. “What lesson did you learn?”

 

“I…I learned not to take food or alcohol from anyone but you,” Roger choked out, words slurred as his swollen tongue struggled to work.

 

Tim smiled and patted his cheek. “Because I know what’s best for you. Think about it Roger. If you got fat then I really wouldn’t have any need for you. Where would you be then?”

 

Roger closed his eyes and shivered.

 

“Maybe letting you join Brian’s little side project was a bad idea,” his eyes snapped open and panic rose in him.

 

“Please Master, I…it’s good. I promise,” Roger gasped. “I promise I’ll do good.”

 

Tim looked thoughtful. “This’ll be a warning then. Another incident like this and you won’t be allowed to play anymore. Understand?”

 

“Yes Master,” relief flooded through his veins.

 

“Good. Clean yourself up, you smell of vomit,” Tim grimaced and stepped back. “Smile has practice in an hour and a half. I expect you to be ready to go in an hour.”

 

He turned and left.

 

Roger scrambled to his feet, putting a hand out to balance himself as he swayed. He got into the shower, as always extending his wings so they didn’t get too wet and started on his hair. Maybe he had gotten too comfortable with Queen. After all, they didn’t own him. He really shouldn’t want to be anywhere but his master’s side.

 

 _That’s a load of shit and you know it._ A disapproving voice that sounded a lot like Brian piped up in his head.

 

 _He can’t treat you like this. He basically tortured you last night for nothing!_ That time the voice sounded like John.

 

 _Darling, you deserve better._ And there was Freddie.

 

Damn it, he did deserve better. Years of conditioning and training had started crumbling the moment he met the other three. There were good people out in the world, and he deserved to be with them. He might be trapped with a monster, but he would be damned if he just curled up and accepted this nightmare of a life.

 

By the time Roger was dressed he had worked himself up into a quiet fury. Tim was in the kitchen making tea and clearly expected Roger in there with him, probably to watch him eat while he was denied food. Anger bubbled in his stomach as he passed the front door and Tim’s bass sitting there made him pause.

 

A few practices ago John had been telling a story about how when he had first started playing, he had messed up stringing his bass and the strings had snapped. An idea started brewing in Roger’s mind and he quietly opened the case.

 

As carefully as he could, Roger loosened up the strings and maneuvered them so they were slightly off center before tightening them far too tight. He smiled grimly and packed up the instrument nice and secure before going to kneel at his master’s feet.

 

The anger remained when they walked into the rehearsal room and Brian gasped, clearly surprised at how awful he looked.

 

The anger simmered when he was shoved in the direction of the couch and told to kneel.

 

The anger flared up when Tim talked to Bradley like he hadn’t abused him all night long.

 

Then he put on his bass, strummed the strings, and a loud snap echoed through the room. The string broke and whipped Tim’s cheek, making him stumble and cry out in pain. Red bloomed where his fingers held his injured cheek and a few thin lines of blood trickled down.

 

A small smile quirked at Roger’s lips and he met Brian’s eye, nodding slightly.

 

He wasn’t going to just lie down and take it.


	6. Chapter 6

Their first gig was in a tiny pub right off campus. It was small and dingy but gathered a rather impressive crowd, usually due to their cheap drinks and low cover charge. It didn’t pay much but none of them cared, they had to start somewhere.

 

Brian paced nervously in the back room, walking two steps before running into old kegs and turning around. They were supposed to go on in ten minutes and Tim was late bringing Roger. It had to be a power move, Tim showing them that they weren’t anything unless he allowed it. It infuriated Brian and he could tell by the tense expressions on both John and Freddie’s faces that they were equally annoyed.

 

Finally, he heard Tim’s too loud laughter and relaxed faintly. It wouldn’t give them much time to prep but at least Roger was here.

 

Then they turned the corner and his stomach dropped.

 

When they had discussed stage outfits, they had agreed to wear whatever they were comfortable in. Of course, Freddie was wearing his flashiest outfit but both Brian and John were dressed a bit more subdued. He had thought that Roger would do the same as he didn’t seem to like drawing attention to himself.

 

Clearly Tim didn’t agree.

 

Roger was dressed in the tightest pants Brian had ever seen. They were leather and clung to every curve and dip, disappearing into high boots. He was shirtless but wore a rather small fringed vest. His eyes even looked larger due to the smoky eye makeup.

 

“So sorry, we got held up,” Tim had an arm wrapped around Roger’s waist, hand possessively resting on his hip. Roger ducked his head, clearly uncomfortable. “But he looks pretty right?”

 

“Lovely,” Freddie’s voice was tight. “We’ll see you after the show Tim. Go get a drink.”

 

With another possessive squeeze Tim walked back out into the pub, leaving the band alone. For a long moment they could only hear the dull roar of the crowd waiting outside.

 

“You okay Rog?” Brian asked softly and the angel nodded. “You ready to go on?”

 

The nervous expression hardened and he nodded again, more sure this time. “Yes, I want to play.”

 

Brian felt a rush of pride as Roger walked out onto the stage, head held high and wings standing at attention. He looked every inch the magical being he was and the crowd started whispering and pointing.

 

“Hello lovelies,” Freddie crooned into the microphone, swaying slightly. “We are just _tickled_ to be preforming for you tonight. I’m Freddie. On guitar we have Brian May, on bass we have John Deacon and on drums we have Roger.”

 

“Make him spread his wings!” Someone called from the audience and there was a cheer of agreement. Brian could see Roger go stiff out of the corner of his eye and started the intro to Keep Yourself Alive. Instantly, the angel rolled his shoulders back and came in with the cowbell.

 

They played _perfectly_.

 

John and Roger meshed perfectly together, setting a powerful rhythm and giving Brian a foundation to build on. It was honestly the best Brian had ever played and there was no way he could have done it without the others. Freddie’s voice rang through the pub, distracting the crowd from the novelty of an angel playing with the music.

 

By the time they played the last notes Roger was grinning wider than Brian had ever seen him. The applause was clearly having an effect him on and the angel leaned forward, eyes bright.

 

“You played beautifully!” Brian shouted over the cheers, pulling Roger in for a tight hug. Wings fluttered around them and after a beat Roger gave him a quick hug back. “Honestly! You were amazing!”

 

A faint blush colored Roger’s cheeks and he beamed at him. “You were amazing too.”

 

“We were amazing! And we-“

 

Tim appeared behind Roger and clapped his hands on the angel’s shoulders. “Who would have thought you could actually play! Alright, let’s get going.”

 

“Wait, wait,” Brian shook his head, still a bit on the high from the performance. “We haven’t even gotten a chance to celebrate!”

 

“Um, I’m about to,” Tim let out a laugh, gripping Roger’s upper arm so tight that he winced. “Some guy just offered two hundred pounds to fuck him. You were right, this angel in a band thing is super lucrative.”

 

Roger went perfectly stiff and his eyes flicked towards Brian’s, terrified.

 

“I…” Brian was at a complete loss. Was Tim honestly using Queen as a chance to pimp Roger out? “But we wanted him for the night.”

 

He had to focus on Tim’s surprise so he couldn’t see the heartbreak in Roger’s eyes. Tim laughed and shook his head, grinning widely. “I knew you’d cave in but…”

 

“We got one hundred and fifty pounds from the show and…” Brian grabbed John’s shirt, pulling him over while waving Freddie over as well. “And I’m sure we can do better than two hundred.”

 

“What’s going on?” John asked, looking between the two of them suspiciously.

 

“Tim here got…got an offer for Roger an I told him that we were planning on enjoying him for the night,” the words felt like poison in his mouth. “Like a celebration of the band’s first gig. The other guy is offering two hundred and I said we’d give him what we earned for the night…do you have any extra to make up the difference?”

 

Freddie blinked at him owlishly, hands twitching at his sides. It was futile really. Brian knew that they hardly made enough money to keep up with rent and get groceries. They didn’t have money to spare to rent out the angel for the night as horrifying as it was.

 

“I’m just kidding,” Tim laughed, shoving Roger in Brian’s direction. “Think of it as a friend’s discount, for the first show only.”

 

Brian didn’t hesitate before wrapping an arm around Roger’s slim waist and giving Tim a fake smile. With a final dirty wink Tim went to the bar to grab a drink and Brian didn’t even hesitate before leading Roger out to the van parked outside.

 

There weren’t any celebratory drinks or parties. Instead, Brian just ushered Roger into the van and was closely followed by a tense looking John and Freddie. For most of the ride back to their flat they sat in silence.

 

“Well, we played magnificently together!” Freddie tried to break the silence but no one else seemed to be in the mood to talk. Roger sat pressed against the side of the car, one wing wrapped tightly around himself as he stared blankly out the window.

 

He didn’t talk when they pulled up to the building.

 

He didn’t talk as they climbed up the stairs.

 

He didn’t talk as they awkwardly shuffled into the flat.

 

As soon as the door shut Brian heard a shaky breath beside him and then Roger fell to his knees. The posture the young man had adopted was clearly something he had been trained to do, knees spread slightly with his hands resting on them. His wings were held up high and his head was bowed.

 

“What are you doing Roger?” Freddie asked softly.

 

“W-wwaiting for you to give me an order sir,” Roger’s voice was tight.

 

John let out a soft sound. “Roger-“

 

“Because why else would you have bought me for the night?” The angel snapped out, shoulders beginning to tremble. “Clearly you are waiting to order me into the bedroom and then you are…”

 

Roger trailed off and his shoulders jerked with a sob. Tears started dripping to the ground, but he tried valiantly to stay in his position.

 

“Oh darling,” Freddie dropped to his knees as well, taking Roger’s chin and pulling his face up so he could meet his eyes. “No, no. We aren’t going to hurt you.”

 

Blue eyes swam with tears. “Then why did you take me home?”

 

“So, no one else would do it!” Brian felt tears burn in his own eyes. “Christ Roger, you are our friend!”

 

He reached down to take Roger’s hand, wanting it to feel different from Tim’s rough grip. The angel rose to his feet but looked so self-conscious and lost that Brian’s heart cracked further.

 

“I don’t understand,” Roger mumbled, letting his fingers intertwine with Brian’s.

 

God, all Brian wanted to do was gather Roger in his arms and keep him safe. He wanted to never see the fear and emptiness in his eyes again. All he wanted was to see Roger smile and hear him laugh.

 

“Nothing is going to happen tonight. We are probably going to eat some snacks, play some games, and go to sleep. But…if you want to just take a shower and go to sleep you can. It’s totally up to you. You are a free man in this house,” Brian made sure that Roger looked him in the eye the whole time. “What do you want to do?”

 

Roger looked between them, seemingly at a loss for words. When no one said anything else he fidgeted slightly. “I…I suppose I’d rather like a shower right now.”

 

“Fantastic,” Brian beamed at him, thrilled that Roger had slightly relaxed. “Let me show you how to work the shower, it can be a bit finicky.”

 

He showed Roger how to fiddle with the knobs just right to get hot water and showed him their collection of half full shampoo bottles, even pointing out the stash of good smelling soap that Freddie thought he was hiding.

 

By the time he came back out John had already put every single pack of snack food they had on the coffee table. There was a rather impressive collection of crisps, biscuits, and even some of the candy he kept in his bedroom so Brian couldn’t get any of it. A kettle steamed on the stove and Freddie was busying himself with getting out four mugs.

 

“Did he honestly think we brought him back here for…some kind of…orgy?” John hissed out the last word, cheeks burning. 

 

“Poor dear,” Freddie sighed, pouring hot water into each mug.

 

“We’re just going to have a relaxing night okay?” Brian looked between the two of them. “Maybe play some games, eat some snack and then go to bed.”

 

The other two nodded and just a few minutes later they heard the squeaking of the shower turning off. There was another pause and then Freddie gasped, eyes widening. “He doesn’t have anything else to wear!”

 

Instantly, he hurried to his bedroom and rushed to bathroom carrying soft joggers and a t-shirt. He froze halfway in before grabbing a pair of scissors from the overcrowded desk sitting in the living room.

 

Ah, for his wings.

 

Brian pulled out their well worn Scrabble box, smiling warmly up at Roger who followed Freddie into the living room. He looked so much better with his face cleaned of makeup and in his much more comfortable clothes.

 

“I wish you hadn’t cut your shirt,” Roger grumbled but Freddie just smiled.

 

“It’s been done darling, now come in and let’s relax,” Freddie kept lightly nudging him forward before Roger took a seat on the sofa next to Brian. “Anything to eat or drink?”

 

None of them could miss the way Roger shuddered and shook his head.

 

Brian couldn’t keep his eyes off Roger the whole time. The angel sat perfectly still, wings standing tall and eyes fixed on the floor. It was obvious that Roger was way out of his depth so, without speaking, the others decided to just start the evening and hope that the angel would join in when he was more comfortable.

 

He took it as a success when Roger finally took his mug and sipped at his tea, eyes following the others as they happily chatted about the show.

 

It was a bit distracting to sit there and feel the brush of feathers against his arm, feeling it more and more as Roger’s wings relaxed a bit more. Brian found he actually liked the feeling of soft feathers against him and tried to push that thought from his mind.

 

“Alright,” Freddie rubbed his hands together, a gleam in his eye. “Are you gents ready for me to kick your asses at Scrabble?”

 

John groaned good-naturedly and helped set up the game, passing both Briand and Roger their tiles. Of course, Freddie started off the game by putting MASHED on the board for thirteen points, smiling smugly at them. After a moment of contemplation John put out SAID for seven points, frowning at his tiles.

 

“Rog, your turn,” Brian said but Roger just stared at the tiles blankly. It was then that Brian realized Roger might have never played the game before. “All you got to do is build a word off of what we’ve done so far. Can you make any words?”

 

Roger continued to stare and shrank down a bit, cheeks burning with what looked like humiliation. “I…I can’t.”

 

“Can’t make any words?” Freddie asked.

 

“I can’t read,” Roger squirmed a bit, looking even more embarrassed.

 

Oh.

 

Brian felt his stomach drop. Of course, Roger had never had any kind of formal education. He took a deep breath, ready to suggest that they play something else, but then Freddie dumped his tiles on the board.

 

“Okay, so see here,” he started arranging the letters. “There are two types of letters; consonants and vowels. Every word has to have a vowel. They are A, E, I, O, and U…sometimes Y but we’ll worry about that later.”

 

He pointed to each of the Scrabble tiles, raising his eyebrows until Roger quietly echoed after him. He voiced the sounds of each of the letters and nodded with a smile as Roger copied.

 

The night turned into a mini reading lesson. Freddie went through each of the letters, voicing the sounds and smiling encouragingly. At first Roger had looked embarrassed and awkward but then, like Brian suspected, Roger’s curiosity and bright mind drew him into the lesson.

 

They took turns quizzing Roger on letter sounds, turning it into a kind of game. Brian thought he could spend forever watching Roger’s eyes light up when her got the sounds right. He was especially impressed when they were able to start putting tiles together to create simple three letter words for Roger to sound out.

 

“Try this one,” Brian lined up five tiles and Roger’s brow furrowed in concentration.

 

“R-O-G-E-R,” he quietly sounded out each sound and then started. “It says my name!”

 

The look on his face made Brian grin goofily. Roger carefully ran his fingers along the Scrabble tiles like they held the secrets to the universe. He leaned forward to look even closer and then started going through the tiles.

 

“There,” Roger put four tiles out and leaned back, pure pride on his face.

 

B-R-I-N

 

“It’s your name,” he whispered, and Brian felt his eyes burn slightly with tears.

 

“Uh…” His voice cracked and he rubbed the back of his neck, conscious of the way Freddie and John were staring. “You’re so damn close, there’s an A right here.”

 

He slid the A tile in between the I and N. Roger frowned next to him and groaned. “Well, that just makes no sense. There shouldn’t be an A there.”

 

“Honey, most of English doesn’t make any sense,” Freddie chuckled. “But it is nearing three in the morning. How about we get some sleep, hmm?”

 

“No! We can keep going,” Roger looked at them, pleading. It was obvious he was exhausted but there was a twinge of hysteria in his eyes. “I can keep learning. Let’s keep going.”

 

John frowned. “We can keep going later, we won’t be able to keep doing this if we are half dead from sleep.”

 

Roger’s breath caught and his hands curled around the edge of the table. “But…but if we go to sleep then…then we’ll have to wake up and…I’ll have to leave.”

 

Silence.

 

“If we could we’d keep you with us forever Rog,” Freddie whispered, and Roger’s face crumpled a bit. “But we can’t.”

 

“I hate him,” the angel breathed, and his hands curled into fists. “I hate him so…so fucking much. I want…I want to rip my tongue out when I have to call him Master and I want to rip off the skin he touches. I want to stick needles in my ears when he calls me his slut or whore. I would rather…I’d rather jump from a roof and let my useless wings fail then wait for the moment when he gets tired and sells me to a brothel or just decides to inject me with poison.”

 

“Roger-“

 

“And the cruelest thing is that he makes me…makes me debase myself because if I don’t do exactly what he wants then I don’t get to play with you and…if I couldn’t do that I would have taken a knife to my wrists a long, long time ago,” Roger choked out and covered his face with his hands. “You are the only thing keeping me here.”

 

Brian blinked and suddenly became aware of the tears slipping down his cheeks. He could hear the shaky breathing of the others around him and leaned forward to pull Roger into a hug. The angel practically crawled into his lap, wings curling around them both. He could feel Roger’s entire body shaking with sobs and his own tears dotted the soft material of Freddie’s borrowed t-shirt.

 

“We’ll get you out of this Rog,” he pulled Roger to him tighter. “We’ll save you, you won’t have to go through this anymore.”

 

“How?” Roger sniffled.

 

Brian didn’t know. Roger was Tim’s property legally and he hadn’t done anything that was technically illegal. Even if they did want to buy him it would cost tens of thousands of pounds and they could barely afford rent most months.

 

“I don’t know,” his heart was somewhere near his feet. The next morning they would have no chance but to take Roger back.

 

“We’ll figure something out,” John’s voice was thick with tears. “It’ll take time, but we’ll get you out. Just…just please promise us that you won’t give up on us.”

 

“Roger please,” Freddie sounded strangled.

 

He didn’t answer but the angel nodded slightly. Brian just held on to him until the sobs quieted into cries and until the cries quieted into sniffles.

 

“Hey Roger,” Brian leaned back to wipe Roger’s damp cheeks. “Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to get a restful sleep and then we’ll worry about the future then. Okay?”

 

The angel nodded slightly and watched as they all stood up, rubbing at their eyes and faces and giving him tired smiles.

 

“You can sleep in my room,” Brian kept his hand on Roger’s shoulder, not wanting to break contact for even a second. The group broke apart and Brian led Roger to his room, smiling as the angel looked around curiously.

 

“I like the stars,” he whispered, looking up at the glow in the dark stars plastered on the ceiling.

 

“I bet you see more stars than anyone,” Brian teased, smoothing back his comforter. “Seeing as you can fly and all.”

 

“Oh, I can’t fly,” Roger shrugged, still looking around the room. “When I was a baby they surgically removed a part of a bone so my wings are entirely for show.”

 

Again, Brian wanted to scream about the injustice of it all. He wanted to rant and rave and cry but he couldn’t. He couldn’t keep breaking down when Roger needed him to be strong.

 

“So…here you go. I’ll be on the couch if you need me,” Brian motioned to the bed.

 

“What?” Roger’s head snapped towards him. “You’re not sleeping here?”

 

“…no?”

 

“I want you to,” the angel blurted. “Please, I don’t want to be alone.”

 

It was a bad idea but Brian couldn’t argue with the large blue eyes locked onto his. He got ready for bed quickly and lay down next to Roger, trying to stay as far away from the angel as possible. He was so focused on not touching him that he hardly noticed how difficult it seemed for Roger to get into a comfortable position.

 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered when he finally lay on his side, wings draped over the side of the bed. “I’ve never-“

 

“Been in a bed?” Brian finished his sentence, eyebrows rising.

 

“No, I’ve been in a bed. I’ve never slept in a bed,” the implication of that made his stomach twist.

 

They lay in silence for a few minutes before Roger started shifting closer to him. Brian felt his throat go tight and his muscles trembled with the strain he kept in them, wanting Roger to make every move himself. Roger kept moving until he was pressed against him, large blue eyes drifting up to meet his.

 

“I wish you were my master,” he whispered.

 

“I wouldn’t be your master. I’d be your friend,” Brian let his hand rest on the soft downy feathers between Roger’s shoulders.

 

Roger’s eyes closed and he let out a shaky breath. “I’m scared that if I go to sleep I’ll wake up and it’ll all have been a dream.”

 

“I promise that I’ll be here when you wake up,” Brian kept running his fingers along the feathers until Roger finally drifted off to sleep.

 

The next morning was a bit painful. Roger was quiet as they ate breakfast, choosing instead to study the Scrabble tiles still on the table. He seemed relaxed though and that calmed the rest of them down a bit.

 

Tim came right when he said he would, all vile jokes and innuendos. The way he touched the angel was possessive, not gentle like the way they did. Brian could see the heartbreak in John’s eyes and the rage in Freddie’s as Tim led him out the door.

 

It felt empty without Roger. The room seemed dimmer and colder almost. Brian, desperate for something to occupy himself with, started cleaning up the Scrabble tiles strewn across the table. He started putting them in their box when he saw the R-O-G-E-R lined up from last night. His eyes burned with tears once again and he managed to keep them from falling as he continued cleaning.

 

That was when he noticed that the B-R-I-A-N was missing.

 

He would do anything, _anything_ , to help Roger. He would sell all his worldly possessions and live on the streets if it meant that Roger could be safe. There was nothing that would change that for him.

 

Roger would be safe.

 

He just had to figure out how to do it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty rough chapter if I say so myself. 
> 
> Chapter Warnings: Injuries, broken bones, blood

A fire had been lit within him.

 

Roger could feel the flame licking at his ribs, his insides alight and burning with anger. Every touch, hit, and word spat at him just fueled the flame higher. At night he would lay on the floor at the foot of Tim’s bed, his body aching and his hands clutching his hidden Scrabble tiles so tight that the corners bit into his palms.

 

The only thing keeping him from blowing up was knowing that Tim would be able to keep him from playing with the rest of Queen. He grit his teeth and did what he was told, trying to just tell himself over and over again that he could do this, and he did.

 

Until he couldn’t anymore.

 

The tipping point wasn’t anything special. Tim hadn’t done anything spectacularly cruel or evil, not anything more than usual. Roger had been asleep, curled up with a threadbare blanket covering him, when Tim had roughly shaken him awake.

 

“Up you go,” his voice was a bit gruff and he grabbed the base of one of his wings, pulling a half asleep Roger to his knees. “Come on now, you know how this goes. Open up.”

 

And that was it.

 

Roger couldn’t stand the thought of letting his man fuck his mouth. He couldn’t stand to hear the groaned curses and names. He couldn’t stand being _used again._

“No.”

 

Tim blinked down at him, clearly surprised. “What?”

 

“I said no,” Roger struggled to his feet, shaking Tim’s hand off his wing. Although the human was taller than him, he still tried to keep his chin up and his gaze strong. “I said no.”

 

“Where did this little rebellion come from?” Tim’s jaw clenched. “When did you think you could give any fucking orders around here? Tell you what, if you get on your knees and suck my cock like the obedient little pet I know you are then I won’t punish you too badly.”

 

He tried to put his hands on Roger’s shoulders to push him down but Roger stepped back. “No. No I won’t. I won’t ever again.”

 

A sharp slap to Roger’s cheek made his face snap to the side and he tasted blood in his mouth. Tim’s face was thunderous. “This is all Brian’s fucking fault. He made you think you were something you weren’t.”

 

Hysteria bloomed in Roger’s chest and the fire became an inferno. “I’m not…not some toy…I have feelings and thoughts and…I’m more than you know. I won’t let you use me anymore.”

 

“Oh, you stupid thing,” Tim shook his head, eyes narrowed. “You’re not more. You were bought, bought for a reason. You reason is to kneel at my feet or spread your legs and look pretty. Brian is wrong, you’re not special and you aren’t meant for anything else. I knew it was a mistake letting you join that fucking band.”

 

Roger shook his head, hair flying everywhere as Tim shoved him back so hard he had to extend his wings to keep balance. “You’re wrong.”

 

“I knew this was going to happen. I knew that stupid hippie would start trying to win you over the moment you let him between your thighs,” Tim shoved him again, twisting a hand in his feathers. “What do you think will happen if you live with him? Do you think he’ll treat you like you matter? No, he’ll act all nice at first and then realize that he has a well trained _whore_ in his bed and he’ll use you.”

 

“He won’t!” Roger shouted, feeling a feather get wrenched free.

 

Tim shook his wing sharply. “Don’t worry love, I’ll make sure you know your real purpose. I’ll keep you here, maybe chained to this bed so you don’t get any ideas. I’ll get a steady stream of guys in here to fuck you until you remember what you are meant for.”

 

“Get off me!” Roger snarled and swung a fist, catching Tim just below the eye.

 

The human stumbled back far enough for Roger to slip around him. For a moment he had a fleeting hope that he could get out the door. He could just run and run, praying that no one would find him until he reached the other’s flat.

 

Two steps closer to freedom and then he felt those cursed hands grabbing his wing again. Roger turned, ready to fight back, but then Tim gripped his wing tighter and swung him around. In an instant, Roger lost his balance and fell against the bed.

 

His wing hit the footboard of the bed and snapped.

 

And Roger just screamed.

 

 

“Phone for you,” the bored undergrad who worked in the practice hall popped her head into the room. “Says his name’s Tom.”

 

“Fucking finally,” Freddie grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. “He’s forty-five minutes late.”

 

 Brian sighed and walked to the phone hanging on the wall by the door, pressing the red button so the call was transferred. “Tim, you better have a damn good excuse why he’s not here.”

 

“Yeah…we’re not coming in, I’m selling him.”

 

It felt like someone had dumped ice water down his back. Brian stiffened, gripping the phone so tight that he was a bit scared he was going to break it. “What?”

 

“He started backtalking me and one thing led to another…basically his wing is broken and I don’t really want to spend the money on a broken thing, ya know?” Tim sighed, like he was talking about breaking a plate or a pencil. “So sorry but I’m not going to be sending him anymore, you should start looking for a new drummer. Maybe a real one this time.”

 

Brian couldn’t find his voice. He could tell that John and Freddie were asking him what was going on, clearly concerned, but he couldn’t hear anything over the roar in his ears.

 

“You can’t!”

 

“Um…pretty sure I can,” Tim scoffed. “Besides, he’s got a buyer coming in maybe an hour or so. I had to sell him for fucking less than I paid though.”

 

“I’ll buy him,” Brian turned to see wide eyes staring back at him. “Please Tim, let me buy him.”

 

“Brian, you can’t afford him. I bought him for fifteen thousand and the guy is paying eight. Can you beat eight thousand?” The condescending question made Brian grimace and he quickly covered the receiver with his hand.

 

“He’s selling Roger, you got enough to make up more than eight thousand pounds?” he hissed, and John’s jaw dropped. Freddie’s hand jumped up to cover his mouth, eyes flooding with tears.

 

“Eight thousand? When does he need it by?” He could see the mathematician in John frantically crunching numbers in his head.

 

“Tim,” Brian turned back to the phone. “We can get you the money in a few days and…”

 

“Frankly I don’t want him bleeding all over the place and screaming his head off for a few days. The other guy is here in less than an hour with cash,” he could practically hear the shrug.

 

“And if we beat him there?”

 

“Then we can talk,” Tim sighed, and the phone went dead.

 

An intense, wild energy seized him and Brian started frantically packing up his guitar. The other two followed without any prompting and soon they had piled in the van and started towards Tim’s building.

 

“What are we going to do?” John sounded frantic as Brian took another turn probably too fast. “We don’t have the money. There’s no possible way we can get the money in this short of time.”

 

Brian knew it was true. He knew there was absolutely no way they could magic up the money, but he would be damned if he let someone else buy Roger. He couldn’t stand the idea of Roger disappearing off somewhere and never seeing him again.

 

He didn’t think he had ever run up stairs as fast as he did that time.

 

He didn’t even knock, just shoved the door open and practically fell into the flat. Tim looked up, surprised, from where he was casually leaning on his kitchen counter flipping through a magazine. He raised his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side.

 

“You got the money really fast,” he said slowly and nodded at both Freddie and John.

 

“Where is Roger?” He gasped out and Tim rolled his eyes.

 

“He’s in the bedroom, now let’s talk money,” Tim stood up straight and crossed his arms.

 

Brian felt the panic swirling in his stomach. “Okay, I’m stay and talk money…John can go check on Roger, okay?”

 

The slight nod and point to the bedroom was all John needed to hurry off. As soon as the door clicked closed Brian set his eyes on Tim, feeling a chilly kind of calm. This was the person he had considered a friend, someone he trusted his secrets with. He almost couldn’t connect that person with the monster he saw standing in front of him.

 

“We don’t have the money,” Brian said slowly, grimacing when Tim sighed heavily. “But maybe we can make a deal?”

 

“I need the cash Bri, your –“

 

“I’ll give you Red Special,” that got Tim to pause. “I’ll give her to you.”

 

“I don’t want your guitar made out of trash,” Tim scoffed.

 

“Fucking fine, maybe we can set up a payment plan. We can pay you a certain amount of money a month until we reach the eight thousand,” Brian offered, holding up his hands. “I’ll write it out and we can take it to the court to make it official.”

 

“So, I can get eight thousand today from the guy coming in a bit or I can wait for the next hundred years because that is how long it’ll take you to pay me off,” Tim shrugged again and Brian saw Roger slipping away from him.

 

He felt incredibly hopeless at that, hands falling to his sides. Roger was hurt, obviously badly if Tim was willing to just sell him instead of trying to get him help. If Tim was terrible there was a chance the next person could be a million times worse. He could be sold to a psychopath or a brothel or-

 

“Twenty thousand,” Freddie spoke up. “We’ll pay you twenty thousand. Five hundred a month every month, guaranteed.”

 

Tim paused, obviously interested.

 

“Yeah, we’ll write out a contract and everything,” Brian agreed, nodding frantically.

 

“You understand that the contract will signify that you three will be joint owners, right?” Tim said slowly. “That means that he would have had four owners in his lifetime. If you can’t pay, then he would be taken from you and moved to a shelter. No one in their right mind would buy damaged goods owned by four people. He would be euthanized since no shelter would want to waste resources.”

 

Brian felt dizzy for a moment.

 

They could barely afford rent and they were all working as well as playing in the band. How the hell could they scrape together five hundred extra pounds a month?

 

“We can pay it,” he whispered, knowing it was their only choice.

 

“Alright, deal!” Tim beamed and started walking to his desk in the corner of the room. Brian instantly started walking towards the bedroom but froze when Tim spoke again. “Wait, wait. Let’s write up the deal and then you can see him. I don’t want you to back out.”

 

 _Not likely,_ Brian thought bitterly but waited as Tim wrote out the contract.

 

He scrawled his name on the line Tim drew for him and practically threw the pen at Freddie before hurrying to the bedroom. As soon as he opened the door John looked up, face pale and eyes wide. He had a hand on Roger’s shoulder where the angel was curled up on the ground.

 

The first thing Brian saw was how glassy Roger’s eyes were. His skin was a sickly white and faint tremors shook through his frame, fingers clenching and unclenching around nothing. Then his eyes trailed up and he almost lost his breakfast at the sight.

 

His wing lay at a sickening angle, bent in the middle of the long bone. Even worse, white bone jutted out of the still bleeding wound and shone in the dim light of the bedroom.

 

“Christ, Roger,” Brian fell to his knees, hands hovering over the gruesome wound.

 

“I think he’s in shock. He hasn’t said anything or looked at me,” John looked a bit hysterical.

 

“Let’s get him out of here,” Brian mumbled, ignoring the surprised glance his way. He tried to get his arm under Roger’s shoulders, but the angel let out a bloodcurdling scream as soon as his wing was jostled.

 

“I know, it’s been so annoying,” Tim groaned.

 

Brian whirled on his, anger burning in his chest. “Shut up. Shut the fuck up. You-“

 

“Careful,” Tim’s voice was slow and cold as he held up the contract he had just signed.

 

His teeth hurt from how hard he clenched his teeth and with Freddie’s help they were able to get Roger to a standing position. The angel swayed terribly but John’s sure hands kept his wing held high and secure.

 

It took some time, and Brian had to fight against his every instinct to beat the hell out of Tim, but they eventually got him into the van. Roger whimpered in pain with every bump even though John tried his best to avoid them.

 

“Roger?” Brian whispered into his ear, fighting back tears when the angel didn’t respond. “Rog, it’s me. You’re safe.”

 

“It hurts,” his voice was cracked and shaking, and this time Brian couldn’t hold back the tears. They trickled down his cheeks as he continued to try and soothe him.

 

By the time Roger was sobbing in his bed Brian was exhausted. Still, he knew they had to look at the wing and try their best to fix it. Angels weren’t covered by healthcare and doctors refused to look at them, referring them to veterinarians instead.

 

John vanished into his room and reappeared with wire, a sheet, and what looked like a thin pipe. For once, Brian appreciated his habit of hoarding things to use in his engineering projects.

 

“Okay,” John squinted a bit, narrowing his eyes at the broken bone. “We can…we have to align the bone first and then secure it.”

 

“Shouldn’t we clean it first? I doubt that fucker did anything for him,” Freddie looked a bit green. He grabbed a bottle of rubbing alcohol from the bathroom and hesitated, glancing at Brian.

 

“Help me hold him down John,” he tried to keep himself strong but it was hard when Roger screamed and clawed at them, desperate to get away from the burning liquid being poured on his open wound. The angel seemed to be teetering on the edge of consciousness, gasping softly in his delirium.

 

John pushed his hair back, clearly uncomfortable with the next step. He took in a deep breath and carefully felt along the bone to find the exact point of the break under the split skin. Roger squirmed but started struggling harder when John took the broken edge of the bone and tried to force the two ends together.

 

“Stop! Stop!” Roger shrieked, nails digging into Brian’s arm. “Please! I’ll be good! I’ll be good, please stop!”

 

No amount of shushing helped as John forced the bones together, quickly telling Freddie to line the pipe up with the bone and wrap it in wire tightly. The screams reached a frenzied pitch before dying out all together as Roger finally, finally passed out.

 

The three of them worked in silence, sanitizing the makeshift splint the best they could and wrapping it in strips of sheets. John finished it off by securing the wing to Roger’s back, long strips of cloth tying it tightly to his chest.

 

“Now what?” Freddie asked once they got Roger on his stomach and stepped back.

 

Brian didn’t know. He didn’t know anything beyond what he was seeing now, Roger lying on bloodied and torn sheets. He didn’t know how they could even dream of paying Tim back with their drummer out of commission for God only knows how long. He didn’t know how they would help Roger heal with an injury that they were just guessing how to treat. He didn’t know how they could help the angel who would clearly be traumatized after the hell he was living in.

 

He didn’t know but it didn’t seem as important now.

 

Roger was here.

 

Roger was away from Tim.

 

Roger would never be hurt again if Brian has anything to say about it.


	8. Chapter 8

Freddie had hoped that everything would be fixed as soon as they signed the paperwork making Roger theirs. He thought that the angel would just move in and they would happily live life. Roger would become the smiling, happy person they had gotten glimpses of.

 

He was wrong.

 

The broken wing had triggered an infection and Roger was delirious. He burned with fever and looked around Brian’s room with glassy, unseeing eyes. If they touched him he would gasp and whimper, begging softly for them not to hurt him.

 

The cost of a veterinarian was outrageous since angels were considered exotic pets. They debated about it for hours, scared that if they got the veterinarian to come in they wouldn’t have enough money to pay Tim back at the end of the month. It wouldn’t be worth it if he got better just to be repossessed and sold to a brothel.

 

So, they got creative. John researched as much as he could and put his engineering degree into good use, creating some kind of rig to support Roger’s wing. It was ugly and bulky but he took all the pressure off of his injuries. As much as Freddie hated it, he used some of his connections at the clubs he used to frequent and got a decent supply of pain medications. They all took up extra shifts at work and if they weren’t working they were sitting by Roger’s bedside.

 

It wasn’t perfect but it was the best they could do.

 

So when Roger finally opened his eyes and the glassy, unawareness was gone all Freddie felt was relief. He put a smile on his face and scooted his chair closer, letting his hands hover over the side of the bed.

 

“Why hello there sleeping beauty,” he said softly and Roger furrowed his brow in confusion. He then startled a bit and his head snapped up to try and look at his wing. “It’s okay…your wing broke and we did a pretty shit job at fixing it but it’s healing! If you’re feeling a bit sleepy it’s probably because we’ve been giving you some pain meds. You’re going to be okay though!”

 

Roger blinked a few times. “I…where is…where am I?”

 

“Brian’s room. So…we bought out your contract from Tim,” he smiled when Roger’s eyes went wide. “You don’t belong to him anymore and you never will again.”

 

“…really?” his voice was disbelieving and shocked. When Freddie just smiled and nodded his eyes flooded with tears and his breath hitched. “I’m yours?”

 

“No. You’re yours,” Freddie patted at his leg. “We meant what we said earlier. You are entirely a free man. Brian found a bed for you and we got it set up in the extra room, your room. It’ll be great! I’ll take you to the markets and we’ll find some things to decorate it.”

 

“Mine,” Roger whispered, like he had never grasped the concept before. “Where are Brian and John?”

 

“At work,” Freddie reached over to the bedside table and offered him the glass of water, smiling again as Roger sipped at it. “They’ll be back later. I think John was going to pick up Indian curry for dinner so we’ve got that to look forward to.”

 

Roger reached a trembling hand up to trace along the bulky, awkward bandages and he winced. “And….I don’t ever have to go back?”

 

“No, he can’t hurt you again,” Freddie shook his head.

 

“It was my fault. I just lost it…I have a bit of a temper and I lost it. I yelled at him and hit him and…he wouldn’t have broken me,” his breath hitched. “I…my wing won’t look the same.”

 

“Honey, it wasn’t your fault. Listen, you were telling this sack of shit that you weren’t going to let him abuse you anymore. Hurting you and then selling you is not at all an acceptable punishment,” Freddie tried to put all his passion into his voice. “He would have happily sold you to any other kind of monster, you might be dead right now if that was the case.”

 

“What did it cost you?”

 

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re safe,” Freddie smiled again, hating how Roger frowned like he didn’t quite believe it. “And once you’re healed up we can start playing again and become super famous so money won’t even be an issue.”

 

A faint smile quirked at Roger’s lips. “That’s a beautiful fantasy.”

 

“Not a fantasy,” Freddie lightly tapped at his nose. “It’s a certainty.”

 

“And here I thought the only certainty was death,” Roger mumbled but the smile remained on his lips. It was always a bit surprising to hear the blunt sarcasm in the angel’s voice. “But it’s death and Queen.”

 

“And…Ryde?” The smile just got wider.

 

“Rhye,” Roger laughed, trying to shift a bit up the bed but let out a shaky breath at the pain in his wing. “It’s Rhye.”

 

“Tell me more about that. I tried to look it up in the school library and couldn’t find anything about it,” Freddie leaned back and put his feet on the side of the bed, something he knew Brian would throw a fit about but he wasn’t there.

 

“That’s not surprising,” Roger sighed and shrugged the best he could. “They don’t publish your cat’s afterlife either. It’s not important…it’s just stories.”

 

“It’s important to you. I want to hear about it if you want to tell me,” Freddie tried to reassure him, not wanting Roger to shut down.

 

The angel hesitated and then shifted his good wing around to his front, long fingers combing through the feathers and straightening them out. “I just know what my mother told me and she just knows what her mother told her. Rhye was a place where magic ruled. We were there, so were mermaids and fairies and…all the beautiful things.”

 

Freddie watched as his brow furrowed and the angel let out a long breath.

 

“But then humans found it and they took everything. They pretended to be friendly, trying to get in good with the fairy king and then…they hunted the dragons into extinctions, chased away the fairies, and enslaved the angels. They took everything and made it their own, erasing our history and destroying Rhye,” Roger kept combing out his feathers. “Because they can’t even let us have happiness in the afterlife.”

 

Freddie knew what it was like to have your history taken from you. He knew how his family had struggled moving to England and the judgement he received from others. At least he was still treated like a person.

 

“That sounds horrible,” Freddie whispered.

 

Roger shrugged. “It’s just a story. Soon, that’ll die out too and it’ll be lost to history.”

 

An idea sparked and Freddie felt a thrill of excitement as he grabbed Brian’s notebook off his desk. “No, no it won’t. Give me a second…okay, tell me everything about Rhye.”

 

“What?”

 

“Your family history and the stories your mother told you are important. We’re going to make it into a song and that’ll last forever,” he grinned widely, pen tapping on the notebook. “Let’s show the world your world.”

 

Roger grinned so brightly that Freddie thought he could rival the sun. “Okay…Rhye is beautiful. It has seven beautiful seas and rivers made of wine-“

 

“Lovely,” Freddie teased, scribbling down what he said.

 

“And…um…music always. It’s ruled by the Fairy king and he is only good. He knows all the right things in the world except he didn’t…when it was taken over by the humans they took the color from his wings and destroyed the land. Everything went dark and twisted and…that’s not the happy part of the story,” Roger shrank back a bit.

 

“I’m thinking two songs,” Freddie looked at the notebook thoughtfully. “One about what Rhye was like and how it changed and one about you taking it back.”

 

“Me?” Roger laughed.

 

“Roger, imagine it. We’ll record this and when people ask about it you’ll tell them. You’ll take back your culture and make other people appreciate it,” Freddie reached over to squeeze his hand. “Darling, from this day on you are in full control of your life.”

 

“Okay, okay, that sounds perfect.”

 

“Hell, people should be scared of that. You’re a powerful, magical being and deserve the respect,” his eyes sparkled. “Let’s start the song off with that attitude. I am Roger, fear me.”

 

The faintest flicker of confidence made Roger’s eyes practically glow.

 

They wrote and brainstormed lyrics for a little over an hour before Roger’s eyes started drooping. The anger and passion the angel had channeled clearly wore him out, plus the pain medication didn’t exactly help.

 

Freddie read the lyrics over and over, chest feeling warm and tight at the same time. He glanced up when Brian poked his head in. The guitarist had dark circles under his eyes from working as many shifts as he could get but he still smiled softly.

 

“He woke up,” Freddie whispered and Brian stiffened, eyes widening excitedly.

 

“Really? What was he like?” Brian kept shooting little glances at the sleeping angel in his bed. “Was he scared? Was he in pain?”

 

“He was…I think he’s angry,” Brian frowned at that. “He’s angry at Tim and the situation and how…it’s a good anger though. He’s actually seeing himself as worth more than…than nothing.”

 

“That’s a bit unexpected, but not unwelcome,” Brian looked down at the notebook. “What’s that?”

 

“We started writing a song together, about Rhye. He is actually a really good lyricist,” Freddie cleared his throat and started to read the last verse they wrote together. “Can you hear me you peers and privy counselors. I stand before you naked to the eyes. I will destroy any man who dares abuse my trust. I swear that you’ll be mine, the seven seas of Rhye.”

 

Still, reading over the lyrics again sent a shiver down his spine.

 

“Destroy any man who dares abuse my trust,” Brian repeated, eyes locked on the words scribbled down. “That does sound angry…but maybe angry is good? It’s better than blank and resigned.”

 

“I think our little Roger has been holding things back. We should be ready for a bit of a storm,” Freddie leaned back in his chair again. “For better or worse I suppose. I for one am looking forward to getting to know the real Roger, the one who’s not scared of being hurt or forced to hide what he’s feeling.”

 

And he could tell by the way Brian was looking at him that he felt the same way.

 

Maybe even felt a bit more.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Mentions of sexual abuse and hinted at child sexual abuse (not graphic in the least)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I'm not psychologist but I do work with a lot of children going through trauma. Roger has been a victim of terrible abuse for a long, long time and now that he's free of it he is really struggling. People who are abuse victims create these walls and have these survival techniques because they want to protect themselves. Roger had more or less gotten used to the abuse and now he's not sure what to expect. He knows that the boys are his friends but he is used to people hurting him and can't honestly fathom a world where he isn't constantly being hurt as it is all he knows. 
> 
> Roger is in a safe place now but he still has those survival techniques. He's going to struggle for a bit and he's going to lash out a lot. He's going to want to test limits of the other boys because he wants to know how far he can push before he gets hurt (although the boys would never hurt him). It's going to be a bit of a rough journey for everyone and Roger might seem irrational at times but he's entirely acting in a way that he thinks is in his best interest.

Brian wasn’t entirely sure what to expect from Roger when he moved into the flat.

 

The angel had moved from Brian’s room into his own, something that clearly blew Roger’s mind. Freddie had even painted his name beautifully on the door which they caught Roger staring at more than once. Maybe he had hoped that Roger would adapt quickly and become one of them, no issues whatsoever.

 

That wasn’t what happened.

 

First, Roger shut himself in his bedroom and took advantage of the lock on his door. He seemed to be in awe of all the little luxuries he hadn’t had before and was trying to see what limits he could push. It led to him taking longer baths, eating more food, and fiddling with things around the house. He would watch the rest of them suspiciously like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

 

He had seen Roger slipping food under the borrowed shirts and it broke his heart. Brian hated the idea that Roger was hoarding food because it meant that he didn’t entirely trust them, that he was still thinking they could take things from him if they decided to.

 

Still, he told himself that Roger needed time to adjust. They made sure to be as welcoming and helpful as possible while still giving him the opportunity to make every single choice he could. It was overwhelming and obvious that Roger didn’t know how to react.

 

Of course, there were little moments where Brian didn’t know how to react either.

 

There was the first time they tried to convince Roger to eat with him and he was clearly so stressed he had to force himself to eat, looking physically ill afterwards.

 

There was the time Roger accidentally broke a glass and went into a full blown panic attack, falling to his knees in broken glass blubbering for forgiveness.

 

There was the time Roger tore the makeshift stitches they had done and nearly passed out before he told any of them.

 

And then there was Roger slipping into his room in the middle of the night, eyes shining in the low lamplight that Brian was reading from.

 

They had installed a lock on Roger’s door which he kept locked every moment he was inside. On the other hand, Brian had stopped locking his door and even left it open most of the time to hint to Roger that he was welcome in at any time.

 

Which clearly was something Roger had taken advantage of. His wing was mostly set now, just taped up and bandaged. It hung a bit lower and was slightly more crooked than his other one but it was reassuring to see that it wasn’t causing him as much pain. He was dressed in one of Brian’s old shirts and a pair of boxers which hung low on his too skinny hips.

 

“What’s up?” Brian quickly put his book aside and sat up.

 

Roger hesitated, shifting from foot to foot before walking towards him. He didn’t say anything but the intense look of concentration on the angel’s face made him stay quiet, stomach sinking. Was something wrong? Was Roger hurt?

 

He got his answer when he suddenly got a lapful of angel and warm lips against his own.

 

At first, Brian was far too shocked to do anything. Every sense was overwhelmed with _Roger._ He tasted the sweetness of him when he lightly tangled their tongues together. He smelled the mango shampoo he used earlier. He felt the softness of his feathers against his arms and the pressure as Roger ground his hips against his.

 

“Whoa!” Brian jerked back, staring at him in shock. “Wait, wait, wait, stop.”

 

“Stop?” Roger’s brow furrowed, clear blue eyes just a breath away from his own. “You want me to stop?”

 

“Yes! Shit, I’m sorry I…”

 

“Is it the wing?” Roger looked a bit panicked. “I know it looks bad but I thought that you wanted me. You look at me like you want me and I am so grateful of everything you’ve done. I want to make you feel good.”

 

“But…but no! You don’t owe me anything,” Brian stuttered. “Honestly Roger, you being here is not…you don’t have to do _anything_ you don’t want.”

 

The angel frowned again. “But I do want to.”

 

“Not as payment or rent! You are a free man and that includes your body, you get to choose.”

 

“I do want to though,” Roger mumbled, looking down with a frown. “You are the kindest person I’ve ever met. You’ve never raised a hand against me or speak to me like I’m worth nothing. I want to touch you and kiss you and…I want to.”

 

“Roger, you’ve been through so much and you don’t know what you want,” Brian sighed, instantly regretting what he said when Roger’s eyes went icy. “Because you-“

 

“Because I can’t possibly choose for myself. Because I’m too damaged to be in a relationship with anyone,” Roger’s voice was incredibly cold. “Because I’m too _stupid_ to decide anything for myself.”

 

“That’s not true. We’ve been letting you make all the decisions,” Brian felt a bit silly arguing with someone in his lap.

 

“About what drink to have with dinner or what shampoo to use. God forbid I make a decision about what could actually make me happy,” Roger’s wings flared out and he stood. One wing caught his desk lamp and knocked it to the ground. “Because you still think I can’t feel anything like a person could.”

 

“That isn’t true!” Brian tried his best to keep his voice down, not wanting to wake Freddie or John. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

 

“No?” Roger’s jaw was clenched, and his eyes flashed. A hand shot out and he pushed Brian’s mirror off his desk, letting it shatter to the ground. “Not my fault, I am too stupid to make that decision.”

 

“Roger,” Brian tried but the angel was too far gone. He stormed out of the room and a crash from the living room made Brian wince as he hurried after him.

 

Roger looked like rage personified, face twisted in anger as he ripped books from bookshelves and pulled apart shelves. It didn’t take long before Freddie appeared, squinting into the light of the living room.

 

“What in the hell is going on?” He asked.

 

Brian couldn’t answer, too stunned by the fury that flowed from the angel currently wrecking their flat. Finally, Roger just screamed, and the fight left. He let out a broken sob and sank down to the floor, wrapping his good wing around himself and letting his bad one flutter slightly by his side.

 

“Roger,” Brian sighed, stepping forward but was knocked back by a wing to his chest.

 

“NO! Get the fuck away from me!” Roger snarled. “Leave me alone!”

 

Freddie made a soft sound and Roger scrambled back against the wall. “Rog, it’s okay-“

 

“I said no. Despite what you might think I do know what that word means. If you ignore me saying no than you are no better than him,” the words hit Brian harder than a truck. “You’d be just like him.”

 

Brian wanted to argue that he was nothing like the monster, that he would never hurt him, but it felt like every word fizzled up in his gut. All he could do was stare at the curled-up angel in front of him, wanting so badly to reach out and touch him but also being too scared to do so.

 

“I don’t know what I am,” Roger’s broken voice came from behind ruffled feathers. “I don’t know where I stand. I don’t know what’s going to make you…make you want to hurt me.”

 

He heard a shaky voice behind him and turned to see John holding a hand to his mouth, eyes wide.

 

“You k-keep telling me that I’m my own person, but I don’t know who that is. I don’t know what you expect me to do,” he sounded so beaten down. “I try to do the right thing but then you just look at me so sad and…I’m doing it wrong and I’m just…I don’t like being wrong…it’s scary.”

 

That was it then.

 

Roger had been taken from his mother at ten years old and started training. He was taught at a young age that he was worth only what his master had bought him for, that he was supposed to be something pretty to be enjoyed. He was taught that everything that went through his head was useless. He was taught that even his body didn’t belong to himself and was trained at a horrifyingly young age to please whoever ordered him to.

 

He had never made decisions for himself. He had been viciously, unfairly punished if he ever spoke his mind or tried to do something for himself. Brian didn’t even know the extent to what little control he had but it was clearly very little. He could see it in the way Roger handled food or how he locked himself in his bedroom, almost like he was scared someone would come in and hurt him or take things away from him.

 

“Oh Roger, sweet Roger,” Freddie moved to sit cross legged on the floor next to him, eyes shining with tears. “I don’t…we don’t know what to do. We just want to help you.”

 

“I don’t think you can.”

 

Brian felt like he had been sucker punched in the gut. What if Roger was right? What if they had spent too much time playing around that Tim had fully broken him, damaging him beyond repair? God, he didn’t think he could ever forgive himself for that.

 

“That’s not true,” John whispered from the back of the room. “It can’t be Roger. You’re strong, you’re a fighter. We’ve all seen it. You don’t know who you are as a free man? We can help you find out?”

 

Blue eyes peeked out from between feathers, red rimmed and frightened. “I’m just scared that one day you’re going to get tired of me and…”

 

“We wouldn’t. We would never hurt you,” Brian said softly, feeling almost breathless when those eyes moved towards him. “I swear it Roger. If you do something wrong, we’ll talk about it. If you piss us off, we’ll talk about it. We would never hurt you or do something you didn’t want.”

 

The wing drifted down slightly, not covering Roger anymore. He stared down at his fingers lightly tracing his feathers and let out a long sigh. “I’m sorry.”

 

“I can’t say I’m happy about you trashing our flat, but we won’t punish you over it,” a blush colored Roger’s cheeks as Freddie spoke. “Just clean it up and it’ll be forgotten.”

 

The angel nodded and got to his feet. At first Brian wanted to insist that Roger just go to bed and clean up the mess on his own but then he noticed how Roger’s shoulders had relaxed somewhat. The four of them cleaned the living room in no time and Roger stood in the corner, wringing his hands.

 

“See? Like it never happened,” Freddie smiled, spreading his arms out.

 

“Can…can we just pretend that none of this happened?” Roger asked but his eyes flicked towards Brian. He nodded faintly, wanting Roger to know he was forgiven for what happened in the bedroom and that he wouldn’t share it with the others.

 

“Course,” John smiled tiredly. “Back to bed then?”

 

The four of them walked towards their rooms, John and Freddie on one side of the flat and Brian and Roger on the other. The angel tried to squeeze past him, tucking his wings in tight behind himself to try and make himself as small as possible. Brian hesitated and then gently reached out to touch Roger’s arm, making him pause.

 

“Are you alright?” He asked softly and Roger paused before shaking his head.

 

“No…I’m sorry for earlier,” Roger mumbled.

 

“It’s alright. It’s not your fault you know,” Brian smiled and stepped back a bit. “None of this is your fault. It must be terrifying to have to relearn how to live life…you’ve been so strong for so long and built up so many survival techniques. I could never do what you’re doing.”

 

“Yes, you could.”

 

“No, Roger honestly I don’t think I could. You’re brave,” he smiled when Roger’s shoulders relaxed further. “But I’m here to help, to help you through the hard parts and be there for you. We only want you to be happy…do you trust me to help you with that?”

 

Roger was silent for a long, long moment. “No…no but I think I could in time.”

 

Well, it was a start.  


	10. Chapter 10

One of Roger’s favorite things in the world was sleeping in.

 

It was a luxury he had never truly experienced before. In the training shelters they had been trained to be attuned to their master’s needs. They were taught to listen to the footfalls outside of their rooms (cells) and to be on their knees by the time the door was opened. It happened at any time of the day and he had been punished through his shock collar enough that he hardly slept through a night, too stressed to even close his eyes.

 

When he was with Tim he still hardly slept, ears strained through most of the night. Even so, he was woken out of his fitful sleep by a hand tangling in his hair and hoisting him to his knees. Tearing pain in his scalp and pressure on his tongue became his new wake up call.

 

And now, now that he was with the other members of Queen he could actually sleep. The first few nights were spent in constant stress, not sleeping until the pain pills forced him under. Then, once he moved into his own room and realized they had installed a lock he was finally, finally able to sleep.

 

No one woke him up early or even bothered him until he turned the lock on his own. He could laze about in his bed for as long as he wanted, and it was a freedom he didn’t even know he missed.

 

So, he didn’t know what possessed him to agree to go with Freddie at the crack of dawn to the market.

 

There was a slight chill to the air as he followed Freddie towards his stall. The market was nearly empty, so the gate sliding open sounded incredibly loud. Freddie hummed to himself as he plugged in a few strands of fairy lights and bathed the racks of clothes in warm light.

 

“So, this is it!” Freddie spun around a bit, arms wide. “Welcome!”

 

From how Freddie had explained it Roger had expected it to look a lot like a luxurious shopping mall. Instead it was a slightly cramped, too crowded stall with far too many clothes crammed into it.

 

“There’s…a lot,” Roger picked at a velvet tank top hanging in front of him.

 

“There is! Go ahead and pick some things out!” Freddie bounced a bit on his feet. “I’ve even got some scissors and whatnot to alter the shirts you pick. You don’t want to wear our old sleep shirts forever! Go, go! Pick out what you want!”

 

Roger hesitated, staring at the incredible amount of clothes. He had worn a uniform in the shelter and Tim had dressed him in what he liked, usually something revealing or something easy to take off. He had never picked out his own clothes.

 

What even was his style?

 

Currently, he wore the worn shirts and soft joggers that the other men had offered him. They were comfortable but not exactly stylish. Was he like John, wearing rather simple clothing with strong lines? Was he like Brian, wearing clothes tight to his body to show his lean figure? Was he like Freddie, finding anything outrageous and wearing it proudly?

 

He wandered through the little stall, fingers brushing along the fabric until they brushed across something silky. Roger carefully pulled on a sleek blazer and studied it. The blazer was a cream color with silk, shining birds stitched into it and it honestly took his breath away. He traced the patterns of wings and smiled softly.

 

“Oh my God, you must try this on,” Freddie gushed, practically ripping the blazer from his hands. Before Roger could say another word the scissors were out and two slits were cut along the back. Roger bit his tongue to avoid shouting out, horrified that Freddie would _ruin_ a jacket he could have easily sold, but then Freddie was pressing the blazer into his hands and encouraging him to put it on.

 

Roger grumbled, carefully slipping one wing through and needing a bit of help with his still healing one. Once the wings were settled, he was able to pull the blazer on fully. Freddie studied him carefully, eyes bright before pulling him towards the mirror in the tiny changing stall.

 

“Look at yourself darling,” he said softly, pulling on the bottom of the jacket to straighten it. “A vision.”

 

Normally, Roger shied away from that kind of talk. His looks were what he was sought after for, something he had been complimented by and hunted for. But, being complimented by Freddie felt different. He felt valued, like he was being seen as a person not just a pretty face.

 

And the jacket. The jacket was stunning. It fit him perfectly, pulling in just right to show off his slim figure. The shoulders stood out, making him look strong and powerful. It made something bloom in his chest and he came to a sudden realization.

 

He liked being seen. He liked standing out. In the past standing out meant that he would be the target of abuse, but now he felt powerful. If people were looking at him they were seeing him. They were seeing a part of his personality through the clothes and he had a damn personality despite what others thought.

 

In no time he had changed the shirt to a crisp white button up and snug jeans. Freddie had even managed to dig up some sparkly pink converse which he was thrilled to find were in his size. He felt confident and strong, holding his head up with a grin.

 

A few customers started trickling in and then it got more and more crowded. Roger tried to stand out of the way, just bagging up purchases that Freddie handed him. He was well aware of the stares and whispers but just ignored them, feeling more confident and sure of himself than he had in a long time.

 

“Wow,” a woman’s voice came from behind him. “Isn’t it just beautiful?”

 

Then a hand closed tight around the end of his bad wing and pulled. Roger let out a gasp and stumbled backwards, dropping the shirt he had been folding to swat away the hands. “Stop! Don’t touch me!”

 

When he spun around he met the woman’s surprised face, and his heart jumped into his throat as her eyes narrowed. “It’s throwing such a fuss.” She snipped to her friend and the reached out to touch his wing again.

 

“Don’t. Fucking. Touch. Me,” Roger hissed out and this time the two women gasped in outrage.

 

“Sir!” The woman shrieked, waving Freddie down who looked over. “Your…your _pet_ is misbehaving.”

 

“What did you do?” Freddie asked, looking confused. The woman smirked at Roger until Freddie snapped his fingers in her face, getting her attention again. “No, not him. What did _you_ do?”

 

“Me? Nothing! It just started shouting at me! It’s gone like…feral or something,” the woman clutched her purse to her chest dramatically. “You should have it put down! I know you want your shop to seem cultured or whatever but it’s not safe to-“

 

“What did she do to you?” Freddie interrupted, turning to Roger.

 

“She just yanked on my wing,” he replied, not letting himself sink down or curl his shoulders in. “I told her to stop and she kept touching me.”

 

“Ugh creepy,” Freddie’s body shuddered and he flicked his fingers at the women. “Out, out. You’re not welcome here.”

 

The women’s jaws dropped and they stared at him in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

 

“Yeah, I don’t sell anything to perverts who grab at others without their permission,” Freddie pointed at the entrance again. “Out.”

 

The women shot them both dirty glares and stormed out, snarling curses at them. The anger left Roger in a rush and he was left shaking and nervous, trying to come to grips with what had just happened. He had just stood up to a human and had someone on his side. He had refused someone’s touch and nothing bad had happened.

 

“Are you okay?” Freddie asked, fixing him with warm brown eyes.

 

“Perfect,” Roger turned to the display case and plucked a pair of oversized aviator sunglasses out. “I’m taking these too.”

 

“If you take any more clothes, you’ll have to come work with me to earn them,” Freddie teased and grinned when Roger smiled back.

 

“Then I suppose I’m working here.”

 

The day was long and busy with so many customers, but Roger felt on top of the world. He had actually started helping customers towards the end of the day and while most seemed a bit awkward with an angel helping out but others actually seemed to value his opinion.

 

They walked back into the flat, laughing and carrying bags and bags of clothes that Roger had picked out. Both John and Brian looked up from where they were relaxing on the couch after work, brows furrowed in confusion.

 

“Roger here is a little fashionista!” Freddie trilled, grinning brightly and spinning Roger around enough before they both got a bit tangled up in his wings. They separated, giggling and grinning. “He is a natural at the market. Even told off these two ladies for touching him.”

 

“Really?” John grinned, eyes bright.

 

“Gave them the old one-two!” Freddie mimed a few boxing punches. “Don’t touch me! Keep your pervy hands to yourself or I’ll break them! All that good stuff!”

 

“Nothing like that!” Roger laughed, pushing Freddie lightly. He could see the way the others smiled at his reaction, clearly happy that he was comfortable enough to joke and even get a bit teasingly physical with them. “I just snapped at them. It was a bit rude.”

 

“They were a bit rude!” Freddie rolled his eyes. “And doesn’t he look amazing!”

 

“My old uni shirts weren’t good enough for your then Roger?” Brian asked but his eyes lingered on his shoulders and where the blazer hugged his waist.

 

Roger felt himself preen under the attention. It wasn’t the nasty leering he was used to, not the precursor to hurt and pain. It was flattering.

 

“Not my style I’m afraid,” Roger felt his wings relax a bit, stretching them out and letting the feathers brush against the silk of the blazer. “And I want to dress the way I want to dress.”

 

Brian smiled and Roger’s stomach flipped. “You look happy.”

 

“I am,” he grinned. “I feel good.”

 

It wasn’t a feeling he had experienced often and now he was willing to chase it to the end of the earth. He was doing things for himself for the first time in his life, doing things that made him happy. The fact that Brian looked at him with those warm eyes was just a bonus.


	11. Chapter 11

The tape had been returned _again_ with a pitying, awkward ‘no’.

 

Brian felt his stomach sink when Freddie ripped open the envelope and read out the rejection letter. They had worked damn hard on their demo and it hurt to get rejection after rejection. It was a drag for the rest of the boys too, wearing on their previously optimistic attitude.

 

Things had felt like they were going well. They had written a few more songs together and Roger had healed up enough to record them. The angel had a new kind of confidence that Brian thought suited him very well but these constant rejection of their demo seemed to even put a damper on him.

 

“What did they write?” John asked and Freddie made a face.

 

“It’s all stupid reasons really,” Freddie mumbled, balling up the paper.

 

Next to him Roger went perfectly still, wings rising a bit to stand tall and stiff on his back. “It’s because of me isn’t it?”

 

At first Freddie paused, clearly trying to think of an excuse. Roger let out a little huff and Freddie sighed. “It is and it isn’t.”

 

“Don’t insult my intelligence,” the angel said shortly.

 

“They wrote that we should try again when we get a real drummer…that our little publicity stunt won’t do us any favors,” Freddie scowled. “Stupid twats don’t know what they’re talking about.”

 

Roger stared down at his hands, twisting them together. “Maybe you should then…maybe you should get someone else, someone better. Then you would have a chance.”

 

“Absolutely not,” John shook his head, eyes narrowing. “You are a part of Queen and they can take it or leave it.”

 

“And they seem to be leaving it more often than not,” Roger argued. “I’m not a professional by any means and no one will take us seriously if they know I’m playing with you.”

 

John started a bit at that, and his eyes went wide. “If they know right? What if they didn’t know?”

 

“What do you mean?” Brian frowned as John made grabby hands at the demo tape, turning it over when Freddie handed it to him.

 

“Here are our names; ‘Freddie Mercury, Brian May, John Deacon, and Roger’. No last name, that’s how people are going to know he’s not human. Why don’t we just give you a last name Rog? Then at least it will get us in the door,” John’s eyes had that glow to them whenever he solved a particularly tricky problem. “Obviously we don’t want to hide that you’re an angel…just maybe not mention it at first.”

 

“And when we get big and famous it won’t matter anyway!” Freddie seemed equally excited about the idea. “People are going to just have to get past their bullshit stereotypes anyway!”

 

“So…do I take one of your last names?” Roger looked a bit awkward, but he was smiling. “You are my masters after all.”

 

That was a point that Roger joked about often. At first it made Brian incredibly uncomfortable, hating the way he referred to himself as being owned, but then he noticed the little smirks. Roger had a dark sense of humor, one that was a bit self-depreciating, and he was starting to appreciate it.

 

 “You should pick your own,” Brian pointed out.

 

“What the hell would I pick? You didn’t pick your own,” Roger sounded a bit annoyed, but Brian still felt the rush of pride every time the angel spoke to them in a way that showed he was comfortable.

 

“How about Angel? Really shove it in their face when they find out,” Freddie grinned, and Roger shrugged slightly. “Although Roger Angel doesn’t really have a good ring to it.”

 

They tossed ideas back and forth, but nothing seemed good enough. At one point John had vanished into his bedroom as they discussed last names from various literary characters. When they were debating if Roger Stoker (it’s the name of the guy who wrote Dracula Brian! Wouldn’t that be hilarious?) was good enough John stepped back in, holding a folder.

 

“What about Taylor?”

 

Roger went perfectly still next to Brian, eyes widening and mouth dropping open a bit. There was a glassy sheen to his eyes, and he blinked a few times, swallowing thickly.

 

“That was the name of your mother, right?” John opened the folder and pulled out a piece of paper. “It says Taylor under the spot for mother.”

 

The angel nodded slightly, accepting the paper when John handed it to him. “I didn’t know I had papers…”

 

“I picked them up a few weeks ago when I turned in our monthly payment. It’s all your documents, your parent’s documents, training records…all that good stuff,” John shuffled the papers. “I was going to give it to you. You should have it.”

 

Roger looked through the papers, picking out the words he knew and lingering on the ones he didn’t. Finally, he looked up and fixed John with a stare. “Did you hear anything about my mother?”

 

At that John paled a bit and looked down at his feet. He shuffled a bit before sighing. “I called the facility and they said, and I quote, ‘she has been out of commission for some time now’ and then asked if I wanted to inquire after her offspring. After you she had another child, a little girl. I don’t know much more, and they said there wasn’t much more information.”

 

A strange silence passed between them. Brian honestly wasn’t sure how Roger was possibly dealing with this information. How could someone be so calm learning their mother was dead and that they had a sister? The thought that Roger’s sister might be subjected to the same horrors that he had sent a shiver down his spine.

 

“Could…could I have Taylor as my name?” Roger asked, voice soft and meek.

 

“Roger Taylor, it sounds perfect,” Brian smiled, and Roger smiled back, eyes still holding that glassy sheen.

 

“My name is Roger Taylor,” the angel whispered, tracing his fingers along the words on the page. “I like it.”

 

Brian grinned as Freddie scribbled the new name on their demo. He glanced over to see Roger smiling, face bright. He loved the moments where Roger got just a bit more freedom, realizing how he was actually worth something.

 

It made it so much sweeter when they were asked to go to a meeting with John Reid.

 

The café they were meeting Reid in was nicer than anything they had ever been in before. It was right on the river with quaint little tables set up and all the waitstaff in white button ups and ties. They all dressed in their nicest clothes, Freddie slightly more glamorous but that was to be expected. He had hemmed the slits on Roger’s shirt and jacket, sewing in buttons so he could easily put it on and button up the bottom.

 

They looked good, they felt nervous but confident, and they were prepared for the meeting.

 

They were prepared until they got there and saw the angels kneeling by the table.

 

There was a male and female angel, dressed in flowing fabrics kneeling at the feet of some businessmen. They glanced up, looking at Roger, before returning their gaze to the ground.

 

“Your table is over here sirs, Mr. Reid reserved it earlier,” a woman smiled kindly at them. “I’ll have a kneeling cushion brought over right away as well.”

 

“That’s not necessary,” Freddie put on his posh persona, chin held high. “He will sit with us.”

 

The woman paused and glanced at him but Roger kept his mouth shut. Brian knew that these situations still made him anxious but at least he didn’t cower back anymore.

 

“Um…it’s restaurant policy?” She said awkwardly.

 

“And we choose to disregard the policy,” Freddie continued. “Or are you going to explain to Mr. Reid why he had to wait for the band he was meeting?”

 

It was a bold play. Brian knew that Freddie liked playing a bit reckless with his threats, but it seemed to work. They were walked to the table and the woman hesitated before handing them their menus. Roger sat in the chair next to Brian, hands tight on the edge of the seat. From the corner of his eye Brian could see how the other two angels were blankly staring at them, obviously not used to seeing one of their own treated like a person.

 

“So, this is Queen!” A strongly accented voice came from behind them and, Brian spun around to see a slim man. Roger quickly reached over to take his hand, squeezing it under the table for support. “I was expecting four members.”

 

“We’re all here,” John spoke up, eyes fixed on the man.

 

Reid looked a bit confused, eyes lingering on Roger before going from member to member. “You must be Freddie Mercury, and…Brian May the guitarist, John Deacon the bassist…you can’t be the drummer.”

 

“I’m Roger Taylor,” Brian squeezed his hand when the angel’s voice came out strong and firm.

 

“Hmm, well this certainly makes you all different,” Reid had a small smile on his face.

 

“Roger is an essential part of Queen. Without him there is no band,” Brian couldn’t help but notice the other angels leaning over, clearly listening in. “So, if you can’t include him then we will have to find someone else who will.”

 

“Hold on,” Reid chuckled and held up his hands. “I would of course include him. I like interesting and you four are very interesting.”

 

The angel let out a shaky breath and the tight grip he had on Brian’s hand lessened. Freddie perked up, eyes widening behind his sunglasses. “So, what are you saying?”

 

Just then a tall blond man walked past and placed a cup of tea in front of Reid. The man glanced at them, eyes lingering on Roger’s wings and his eyebrows raised. Reid nodded at the man. “Paul Prenter, meet Queen, our new signing.”

 

White noise filled Brian’s head for a moment. It happened. They had actually been signed. They were going to be someone. He could see the way the rest of the men straightened up at that and knew they were also feeling their heart flip in their chest.

 

“Pleasure,” he seemed to force his gaze from the wings and looked at the others.

 

“We do have one caveat,” Freddie cleared his throat and held up a finger. “If we sign with you then Roger must be treated like any other person. He is smart and talented and will be respected as such. He will receive a portion of any payment we get, alright?”

 

Brian could see Paul roll his eyes at that, but Reid laughed, his spoon clinking against the side of his cup as he stirred it. “I must say that you might be the most interesting band I’ve ever managed. Absolutely understood, I respect that.”

 

A wide smile spread across Roger’s face at that, wings going a bit relaxed. It was a feeling Brian hadn’t felt in a long, long time. They had worried and stressed about Roger for so long that it felt like they were finally getting their break. Things were finally working in their favor.

 

“Then we are thrilled to work with you,” Freddie leaned back in his chair, beaming at the rest of them.

 

They talked about meetings with studios and producers, leaving all of them beyond giddy. Roger even piped up a few times in the meeting and while Reid spoke to him like a child he was still part of the meeting.

 

When they left, grinning and talking about the album, Brian couldn’t help but notice Roger nod and smile at the kneeling angels. He also noticed the nods and smiles he got in return, the angels clearly wanting to show that they had heard the conversation.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a short chapter in honor of Roger's birthday!

“Why wouldn’t you tell us that your birthday is on Saturday?” John asked, scanning through Roger’s paperwork. He looked up, eyes fixating at where Roger and Freddie were practicing his reading with Scrabble tiles.

 

“What?” Roger didn’t look up from the tiles.

 

“Your birthday is on Saturday,” John tapped his pen against the papers, eyebrows raised. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

 

“We would have missed your birthday!” Freddie looked horrified.

 

Roger shrank down, looking a bit uncomfortable. He shot Brian a look but the guitarist just shrugged, lowering his book a bit. “Rog?”

 

“I didn’t know my birthday,” the angel mumbled.

 

Brian’s heart cracked and he folded down the corner of his page, setting the book aside. “You’ve never celebrated your birthday?”

 

“I celebrated my old master’s with him but…I didn’t like that….” Roger stared down at his hands, fiddling with a few tiles.

 

John let out a slight wounded sound, expression going a bit sad. “Well, that’s not how normal people celebrate birthdays. We’ll do it right, have a cake and balloons and all that. It’ll be fun!”

 

The tiles clicked together in Roger’s hand as he curled it into a fist. “But that costs money. You shouldn’t spend money on me.”

 

It went unspoken but he knew that Roger lived in constant fear that they wouldn’t be able to pay their monthly payment. They had expected that being signed meant the end of their money troubles but that wasn’t the case. In fact, things had gotten a bit harder.

 

“It doesn’t have to be expensive,” Freddie’s eyes were overly bright, fingers tapping on his lips. “Leave it to me. You’re worth celebrating darling.”

 

The faint flicker of hope in Roger’s eyes stuck with Brian for the rest of the week. It lingered when he was at work, when he practiced, and when he stayed up working on what he hoped was the perfect gift.

 

They had managed to put together a party, not the fanciest shindig but it was the best they could do. Freddie gathered together some balloons and streamers, taping them all over their flat. John had tried his best to make a cake and it sat decorated on the dining table with Roger’s name iced messily on top. A few poorly wrapped gifts sat behind it.

 

As shabby as Brian felt the party looked he would have never known it based on Roger’s reaction. The angel looked at everything excitedly, touching the decorations like they were fine art. It filled Brian with warmth every time he got to see Roger experience something new to him. It was just a bit sad that the new thing he was experiencing was his own birthday.

 

“Gift time!” Freddie sang out, ushering Roger to a chair. The angel smiled good naturedly but bounced a bit, a mix of nervous and excited energy. He handed Roger a package, grinning widely. He looked almost more excited to give the gift than Roger was to receive it.

 

He carefully peeled back the paper to reveal a black jacket with multicolored satin stripes running vertically down it. A grin spread across Roger’s face when he saw that Freddie had already altered it to include buttons for him to easily pull it on.

 

“It’s beautiful,” Roger whispered.

 

“I mean if you don’t like it I can-“

 

“No,” Roger interrupted Freddie’s rambling. “It’s perfect Freddie, honestly.”

 

The singer relaxed at that and patted Roger on the shoulder, looking pleased. John grabbed his package next and handed it to the angel, a faint blush on his cheeks. Roger grinned and unwrapped it, again being careful with the paper.

 

Inside were a few notebooks and a little bundle of pencils. He looked up curiously and the blush on John’s cheeks went darker pink. “Um….it’s so you can start your own collection of songs or maybe to practice writing…or even just to write your own thoughts down.”

 

Roger was smiling so bright that Brian couldn’t help but smile with him. He reached over to squeeze John’s hand, eyes bright.

 

“Thank you, John,” his voice was soft but filled with emotion.

 

Their eyes then turned to Brian and he suddenly felt incredibly awkward about his own gift. It was a tiny wad of paper wrapped with a bright string, looking almost sad in comparison to the other gifts. Roger gave him a smile and unwrapped it, holding it in his hand.

 

“It’s…it’s a necklace,” Brian stammered out. “I took the chain from one of my own and the disk was punched out of some sheet metal I got from John…I carved the date in though…it’s the date we officially brought you here as ours because I figured we should celebrate that day as well as your birthday.”

 

Roger stared at the date scratched into the shiny surface. “The day when I started my new life.”

 

“Yeah,” Brian shuffled a bit. “Like…your second birthday.”

 

There was a beat of silence before Roger jolted up and threw his arms around Brian’s neck, squeezing tightly. He just hugged Brian for a few moments before pulling back, the smile impossibly bright on his face.

 

“It’s amazing,” Roger put it around his neck and admired it. “Really, thank you all. I’ve never…thank you.”

 

Freddie glanced between them, eyebrows raised. A sly smile spread across his face and he clapped his hands. “The party isn’t over yet. We still have cake.”

 

He lit the candles, moving the cake carefully towards Roger. Brian couldn’t help but think that Roger looked beyond beautiful in the candlelight, eyes bright and hair soft around his face.

 

“You have to make a wish before you blow them out,” John reminded him and that caused Roger to pause, brows furrowing in confusion. “About what you want most.”

 

“Oh…” Roger’s eyes widened and he thought for a moment. Then his eyes slid towards Brian and the guitarist’s heart jumped. A small, shy smile spread across Roger’s face and he blew out the candle.

 

“Don’t tell though, or it won’t come true,” Freddie teased but Brian knew he had seen the glance.

 

“Then it’s my secret,” Roger whispered, eyes still locked on Brian’s.


	13. Chapter 13

Brian felt so incredibly out of place in Ray Foster’s office.

 

He had always considered himself a rather simple person. He preferred jeans and t-shirts to the flashy outfits Freddie (and now Roger) liked. His room was sparsely decorated, just a few little things that were meaningful to him.

 

Ray felt differently. The couch he was sitting on was worth more than all the furniture in their entire flat. An entire tree had to have been used for the massive desk he sat behind, giving him an intimidating height over them on the couch. He had to think that the producer had planned for that.

 

Just like he had planned for the kneeling pillow already sitting on the side of the couch.

 

Out of the corner of his eye Brian could see Freddie bristle with anger but Roger just brushed past him and knelt on the pillow shooting him a look. _Don’t make a scene,_ he imagined Roger begging. _It’s not worth losing this to make a stand._

Freddie stiffened and finally sighed, very briefly shaking Ray’s hand before sitting down on the couch. Brian settled on the couch closest to Roger and let his fingers brush over the feathers near him, trying to soothe the angel somewhat.

 

“And you’re Queen then,” Ray’s eyes were shaded slightly by his glasses. “I’ve heard a lot about you. John doesn’t rant about many of the artists he signs.”

 

Reid let out a short laugh, shaking his head slightly as if humbled. “I just enjoy finding unique artists.”

 

“Unique indeed,” Brian kept his fingers brushing along the downy feathers between Roger’s shoulder blades, the angel going stiff as beady eyes slid towards him. “In fact I’ve-“

 

The door opened and a girl scurried in, clearly trying not to be seen. She might have accomplished that task if not for her bright yellow wings. The angel was wearing a thin, nearly see through slip of a dress and was barefoot so her footfalls were nearly silent on the plush carpet.

 

“Where the fuck were you?” Ray snapped and the angel froze, dark eyes going wide. She instantly fell to her knees and instead shuffled next to his desk, whispering apologies. “I swear, I send you out to deliver papers and it takes you forever. Stupid thing.”

 

The girl wasn’t even flinching at the insults.

 

Ray rolled his eyes and sighed. “I don’t know what you did to train him, but I can’t even get mine to do the simplest tasks. You have him playing drums? That’s impressive in itself.”

 

“We didn’t do anything,” Brian felt his teeth ache from how hard he was gritting them together. Freddie’s voice came out icy and emotionless, his eyes mirroring his tone. “Roger is incredibly talented and learned on his own.”

 

With a huff, Ray waved his hand. “I’m sure, every band has to make a buzz somehow. Bring them in with the pretty face and hope they stay for the music, eh?”

 

Roger’s feathers ruffled a bit and the tips of his wings flicked.

 

“You heard the demo,” Reid interrupted. “They show promise and sell out gigs all over the London area.”

 

Ray hummed and looked through some papers in a folder on his desk. The angel by his desk stayed perfectly still the whole time, eyes blank and fixed on the floor. Brian could tell that Roger was trying to copy the position, but his wings gave away how he was really feeling.

 

“You’re paying off his contract?” Ray flicked a hand in Roger’s direction.

 

“Um…a…someone sold him to us,” Brian mumbled, hating how the words felt on his tongue.

 

“How much do you owe on him?” Ray looked at them over the top of his glasses. “I’m not going to put you on a tour if your drummer gets repossessed in the middle.”

 

“We owe seventeen thousand and twenty seven pounds,” John said softly.

 

“What? Why that much?” Ray barked out a laugh. “A used angel? I mean he’s pretty and all but with that wing, he must have just the tightest little ass known to man.”

 

Brian wanted to beat Ray senseless. He wanted to jump across that stupidly large desk and wrap his hands around his thick throat. He wanted to squeeze and punch and claw at the man until he was a blubbering mess.

 

But Roger wrapped his fingers around Brian’s ankle and squeezed, grounding him.

 

Not the time.

 

Get their album first.

 

“Well, color me intrigued with you lot. I’ll give you one album to prove yourself,” Ray held up a finger and Brian’s heart jumped into his throat. “I am concerned with the angel’s contract though.”

 

“We’ll pay it off,” John sounded equally as thrilled with the promise of an album. “I’ve got a schedule set up and we have been putting in the same amount every month. We’ve only been late once and paid extra that month so-“

 

“I’m sure you’re terribly organized,” the producer sighed, looking annoyed. “But in my experience young boys with the promise of fame aren’t the best with money. I’ll buy out the contract.”

 

Brian felt his breath catch in his throat and Roger’s fingers went tight on his ankle.

 

“Excuse me?” Freddie asked, leaning forward a bit with a deep frown on his face.

 

“It’s a win-win. I’ll give you the money to buy out the contract and you will repay me the remaining amount. I’ll take it from your earnings. I’ll be incredibly kind and not make you pay any interest either,” Ray’s eyes were fixed on Roger and the angel shrank back.

 

Silence.

 

“I….uh…no, we can’t,” Freddie looked a little panicked.

 

“Then I’m afraid I can’t make this deal with you. I can’t risk him getting picked up and resold,” Ray shrugged, closing the folder. “It’s already going to be hard if you go anywhere and the press hears that your pet angel is used up. I’m just trying to help you lads out.”

 

Freddie turned wide, terrified eyes to Brian. In between them on the couch John just sat still with his eyes dead ahead. The guitarist felt his heart beating painfully in his chest and knew they were between a rock and a hard place.

 

Already they had been late on their monthly payment and things were not looking good for this month either.

 

“I would still belong to them, right?” Roger’s soft voice startled him and apparently Ray as well.

 

“Aw, you’re precious,” he chuckled but the other angel lifted her head a bit. “Don’t you worry, your masters will still have you to warm their beds at night.”

 

A soft angry sound bubbled from John’s throat and his eyes narrowed dangerously. “He doesn’t-“

 

“It’s okay,” Roger turned to face them. “You should sign it.”

 

Brian could cry. Roger was staring up at them with such a look of trust that something painful twisted in his stomach. He sucked in a breath and nodded slightly. “Fine.”

 

“Wonderful!” Ray clapped his hand and pulled out another paper, scribbling his name before thrusting it towards the angel kneeling at his feet. “I just need your signatures and we can set up a time for you boys to record. Then we can start thinking about a tour and radio.”

 

The angel stood up gracefully and brought the contract to Freddie, holding a pen out to him. Their singer stared at her for a few moments. He looked incredibly conflicted and took the contract with trembling fingers.

 

“What happens if the album doesn’t do well?” He asked and Ray raised his eyebrows.

 

“Then…you don’t get another one? I figured that would be self-explanatory,” he shot Reid a look.

 

“No, what happens to Roger?” Freddie just stared at the contract. “I mean…if we are paying you back with our earnings then what happens if we don’t have any earnings.”

 

Ray fixed Roger with a look that Brian could only describe as a leer. “I suppose I own him then, don’t I?”

 

The pen slipped a bit in Freddie’s grip as his face paled. He looked lost, contract trembling in his hand. “Then…I don’t know. We can’t risk it. It’s too-“

 

“Queen and death,” Roger said softly, leaning over to lightly place a hand on Freddie’s knee. “You told me those were the only certainties in the world, us and death. It’s a certainty Fred.”

 

The angel stared at Roger openly, eyes tracing from his face to his hand on Freddie’s knee.

 

“Fine, fucking fine,” Freddie let out in a huff, signing it and practically throwing it at John. The younger man signed it as well before handing it to Brian who scribbled his name. Just as he finished the last letter the angel leaned over to take him from him, but he held on tight.

 

“Roger signs too,” he said sharply, making Ray laugh loudly.

 

“Really?” The producer glanced at Reid who chuckled as well. “Do you honestly think he could understand what he’s signing?”

 

“Do you?” Roger snapped back, clearly annoyed with the constant jabs.

 

The joking atmosphere went cold instantly. The smile drifted off Ray’s face and was replaced with an expression that was completely unreadable.

 

“Careful,” he said, voice soft and dangerous, before looking up at Brian. “You should control your pet better. If he were mine, I would have beaten him.”

 

“He’s not yours,” Brian felt Roger’s hand squeeze his ankle again.

 

“Not yet,” Ray said simply and Roger dropped his gaze, grip impossibly tight. “He doesn’t have any human rights, so it’s worth nothing more than a scribble. But if it makes you feel like you have something special here, go for it.”

 

Roger took the pen and wrote his name under Brian’s, carefully writing each letter like he had been practicing. When he handed the contract to the angel their eyes locked and the girl gave him a tiny nod before bringing it back to Ray.

 

“Alright then,” Ray beamed at them and handed them a check. “Give this to whoever sold you him. I’ll let you know when and where you can start recording. Congratulations on your album boys.”

 

They shook his hand and walked out of the office, John shutting the door behind them a bit harder than he probably should have. The four of them hardly fit in the elevator and it was horribly quiet as the doors slid shut.

 

“I feel like we just made a deal with the devil,” Freddie mumbled, staring at the check in his hands.

 

“We just got ourselves an album,” Roger spoke up, head held high. “That’s what we did.”


	14. Chapter 14

The check and letter arrived at the apartment, tucked into a plain white envelope. The note had been written and rewritten a million times, words scratched out and scribbles in the margins. In the end, it said exactly what they wanted.

 

_Tim,_

_Here is the outstanding payment we owe you. Don’t contact us or attempt to contact Roger ever again. You are a sad sack of shit who never deserved to have the time with Roger that you were given. He’s so much more than you know._

_Fuck you,_

_Brian._

 

The night was a bit humid, air hardly blowing through the half open window in Brian’s room. He had stripped down to a t-shirt and boxers and lounged in his bed, mindlessly strumming at his guitar. Everything felt lazy and heavy.

 

“Brian?” He glanced up to see Roger hovering in the hallway.

 

“Sorry, was I being too loud?”

 

Roger shook his head, a small smile on his face. “It sounds beautiful. I was wondering if I could ask for help.”

 

“Sure, what do you need?” Brian placed the guitar on the stand, shifting closer to the edge of the bed.

 

The angel walked into the room, lingering by the sides. He looked a bit nervous, hands twitching at his sides and eyes locked on the floor. When he finally took a deep breath and looked up, he had a blush on his cheeks.

 

“So…I need to preen my feathers and I can’t reach some of them…” he rocked a bit on his feet. “I wouldn’t ask but they’re starting to itch, and we have that photo shoot tomorrow.”

 

“Um, sure,” a bright smile lit up Roger’s face and he practically bound over, grabbing a pillow from the bed and throwing it on the floor to get comfortable. Brian was suddenly faced with Roger’s back and a face full of feathers. “What do I do?”

 

He watched, transfixed, as the muscles shifted under the skin and one of the wings spread out. The colors shimmered in the low light and Brian felt his breath caught in his throat.

 

“See here? Some of the feathers are kind of coming out and they can get caught and twisted and…it’s annoying. I can’t reach the ones closest to my back and they’re not coming out on their own,” Roger scowled at his wing, fingers lightly combing through them. “Just…watch here.”

 

Brian watched as Roger’s hands nimbly moving through the feathers, twisting and combing through them. He tried to listen as the angel explained how the feathers should lie but kept getting distracted. It was almost hypnotizing watching him and he felt himself blush when he realized Roger had been watching him with a small smile on his face.

 

“I’m sorry,” he felt his face burn.

 

“I thought I broke your brain,” Roger grinned. “You got it?”

 

“I think so,” he stretched out his fingers to brush along the downy feathers at the base of Roger’s wings. The angel’s shoulders rolled back, and he let out a soft sigh. As carefully as he could, Brian brushed through the feathers. He made sure every single one faced the same way and combed out a few feathers that had fallen out.

 

He was just lightly stroking the soft feathers when he realized Roger’s eyes had fluttered clothed and he was pressing back into Brian’s hands. Soft hums came from his throat and Brian grinned. “Feel good?”

 

Roger’s eyes snapped open and he blushed a bit before nodding. “Yeah…I’ve always just kind of struggled to do it on my own. Back in the training shelter we would preen each other, it’s like a social thing.”

 

“What was it like there?” Brian asked and then instantly wished he could take the words back. “I mean…if you don’t want to talk about it you don’t have to!”

 

The angel was quiet for a few moments before sucking in a deep breath. “No…it’s fine. It wasn’t all bad. We had our own rooms, basically little cells. We had to go to classes where they taught us how to cook and clean and….keep our masters happy. If we messed up then we were reminded of what we were by a shock collar.”

 

“Jesus,” Brian felt himself pale.

 

“It wasn’t all bad. Even though they tried to keep us separate we kind of made up our own form of communication,” a far away look crossed Roger’s face. “We would tap on the walls and make sure the other angel was okay…maybe that’s why I’m a good drummer.”

 

Brian couldn’t help but smile at the wry grin Roger shot him. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

 

“I’m not,” Roger’s shoulders lifted in a shrug. “If I hadn’t been there then I wouldn’t have been sold to my old master and I wouldn’t have met you. And if I hadn’t been born an angel, I don’t know how I would have met you either. I was exactly where I needed to be.”

 

Something dark and painful settled in Brian’s stomach. His fingers fell to the side which made Roger turn, brows furrowed in confusion.

 

“I hate that you are okay with that. That you were okay with being objectified and abused and…” a swell of anger overwhelmed him for a moment. “I would have rather you had not suffered at all.”

 

Roger shifted around until they were facing each other. He raised up on his knees and gently took Brian’s hands in his own. “But I did and now I’m not. You saved me Brian, and I would rather you not blame yourself for things that you had no control over.”

 

And Brian lost it. Tears started spilling down his cheeks, and he curled in on himself with a broken sob. He could hear Roger gently shushing him and he could feel gentle fingers brushing away tears. His body shook with the force of his crying but Roger just held him, rocking them back and forth.

 

“I’m sorry,” he choked out when he could finally get a breath. He opened his eyes to see tears swimming in the blue ones inches in front of him. “Christ, I’m sorry Roger.”

 

“No one has ever…mourned for the life I never had,” Roger whispered, pressing their foreheads together. “I wouldn’t have wanted to be human. I don’t want to imagine a life where I didn’t know you.”

 

“We would have met,” Brian felt his chest warm as Roger continued to press their foreheads together. “Maybe in university. Maybe I would have advertised for a drummer and you would have auditioned.”

 

“I’m sure I would be a lot better because I would have gotten lessons,” Roger chuckled.

 

“Bullshit, you’re amazing. No one knows those drums like you,” Brian grinned. “Of course, we would have let you in, and you would be just as amazing as you are now.”

 

Roger let out a teary laugh. “You could have done better.”

 

“No, no I couldn’t have. You are amazing, funny, and smart,” Brian felt his breath catch in his throat as Roger’s eyes softened. “The universe would have made sure we would be together.”

 

Roger hummed softly and a small pause passed between them. “I…I really want to kiss you now. Is that okay?”

 

“Are you sure? You don’t-“

 

“I know. I want to,” he hesitated again and then gently pressed their lips together.

 

It was so different from the last kiss they shared. The previous kiss has felt emotionless and rehearsed, a kiss he had been trained to give. This time it felt real. Roger’s lips trembled against his and moved clumsily, hands fluttering around Brian’s.

 

When they parted this time it was without the panic and fear. Brian searched those blue eyes for any sign of hesitation and saw none. “Are you okay?”

 

Roger nodded and smiled brilliantly. “Yeah.”

 

“You sure?” He started asking and the angel surged forward to kiss him again. It was less nervous and more sweet as their lips slid against each other’s. This was the real Roger. This was a Roger that no one else had seen and Brian understood what an incredible treasure that was.

 

His eyes opened and he was surrounded by blue. Roger had risen up on his knees and his wings surrounded the two of them, curling around to create a wall around them. Then Roger’s eyes fluttered open and his breath was stolen from his lungs.

 

“How…how are you feeling?” Brian breathed. “If this was too much or scary or…”

 

“No…it was wonderful,” Roger laughed, sounding bright and beautiful. “Perfect. It’s…it’s like…I’ve never flown before but that must be how it feels. Kissing you feels like I’m flying.”

 

Brian reached up to cup his cheek, pulling him in for another kiss.

 

He felt like he was flying too.


	15. Chapter 15

This was what he was born for.

 

Freddie brushed his hands along the fur coat he had drooping off his shoulders, sunglasses in place. He tried his hardest to keep a calm façade when inside he was screaming in joy. He had dreamed of this but never actually thought it would happen.

 

They were at a photoshoot. They were at a photoshoot so their faces could be plastered everywhere. People would finally, finally know their faces and Freddie could just imagine the posters that would be plastered on bedroom walls. It was everything he had dreamed of.

 

Even the set was something out of his dreams. Ray had gotten them hooked up with a rather flashy photographer and he greedily eyed the costumes that lined the wall.

 

Oh, this was going to be fun.

 

“Alright boys,” Paul clapped his hands behind them. “Let’s get you to hair and makeup.”

 

In no time they were sitting in chairs with a small army of brush wielding makeup artists hovering around them. Freddie relaxed into the feeling of soft brushes against his skin, feeling every inch the rockstar he knew he was.

 

“He’s like a little doll!” He cracked one eye open at a woman’s squeal. One of the makeup artists had a tight grip on Roger’s chin, turning his face this way and that way. Roger had shrunk back a bit, a grimace on his face.

 

“Um, no he’s not,” John drawled, and the makeup artist’s hand fell back. “If you want him to turn his head or something you got to ask him. Roger, don’t take that shit.”

 

The makeup artist flushed and stayed quiet the rest of the time they got made up. It was easy to fall into the mindset of the true rockstars that they were. It was easy when their eyes were smudged out and their cheekbones highlighted. Their hair was teased, and hair sprayed until it was stiff.

 

Then the costumes came out.

 

Freddie’s breath caught when his costume was brought over. The leather pants looked so soft and had a faint shimmer to them. The loose fitting top was sheer and had a deep, deep neckline. On top was a silver snake arm band. It was amazing and beautiful and-

 

“Where is mine?”

 

He tore his eyes from the beautiful costume to see Roger staring at an empty handed Paul. Both John and Brian were holding their own costumes that looked a bit like Freddie’s but there wasn’t a fourth one.

 

“You don’t get one,” Paul shrugged, turning to walk back towards the set.

 

“Excuse me?” A deep frown marred Roger’s handsome face. “Then what am I supposed to wear?”

 

Paul let out a long suffering sigh and looked down at the clipboard in his hands. “It says here that the angel is in the nude, so I guess you’re wearing nothing.”

 

“That’s bullshit!” Brian exploded, eyes flashing. “Get him a damn costume!”

 

“I’m not wasting money on an expensive costume just for him to cut up,” Paul scoffed, not even looking at Roger. “People want to see a pretty faced angel and ogle his body and wings. No one wants to see it as a person.”

 

The room was silent.

 

Freddie honestly felt like his own heart had stopped beating. He could hear the rush of blood in his ears, almost drowning out every other sound. Then everything came back in a rush and he felt almost dizzy with the anger that overwhelmed him.

 

“Then I won’t wear a costume either,” Freddie announced, stripping off his clothes until he was just in his briefs. “It’s ugly anyway.”

 

Paul looked a bit surprised at that, eyebrows raised. Despite the way the manager let his eyes linger on his body or the way everyone had gone quiet, Freddie kept his chin raised high. If Roger had to stuffer through this humiliation then he would go through it too.

 

“You don’t need to debase yourself for-“

 

“But Roger does?” Freddie glanced over and was momentarily struck dumb by the pure hatred in Brian’s eyes. The taller man’s eyes flashed dangerously, and his hands were clenched into tight fists.

 

Paul, to his credit, looked a bit uncomfortable and turned away. He cleared his throat and shook his head slightly. “I’m just following what Ray wanted. Don’t shoot the messenger.”

 

“You know what, fuck it,” John grumbled and yanked his own shirt up and over his head. “If you’re so insistent on this then we will all do it nude, but we are not going to make Roger look less than us. We told you before that we are all equal.”

 

Paul let out a laugh and put a hand on his hip. “Well, that’s just not realistic.”

 

 Logically, Freddie knew what they were doing was unorthodox. Angels had never been equal to humans and it was just the way it was. But…Freddie never liked just doing things the way they were. He believed in ignoring the way things had been and paving a new road.

 

And if that new road meant that Roger could live his life happy and free so be it.

 

“Fine,” Paul threw his hands up in surrender. “Strip down for all I care, just be ready to shoot in five minutes.”

 

A wide smile broke out on Freddie’s face and he spun around to face his bandmates, uncaring of his near nudity. “What if Roger is the only one dressed? That’ll stick it to them.”

 

“I don’t want to be used as a prop,” Roger shrugged, looking a bit uncomfortable as John neatly folded his clothes. “I don’t have to be in it though.”

 

Freddie paused and then reached over to cup his cheeks in both hands. “Darling, when will you realize that you have a place here. We are going to fight for your place, but I need you to fight too.”

 

A small smile graced Roger’s face and he started unbuttoning his own shirt, reaching behind him to undo the buttons that connected the flaps under his wings. “Fine, if you really wanted to be naked with me you only had to ask.”

 

“Don’t tempt me,” Freddie shot him a wink and got a musical laugh in response.

 

“You should wear that arm cuff though,” Roger picked up the silver snake cuff, holding it out. “It would look good on you.”

 

Freddie grinned and wound the cuff around his bicep.

 

It was…strange. The four of them stood in just their briefs, shivering a bit in the studio’s cool air. Freddie shot a jealous glare at Roger when he curled a wing around himself to stay warm. His eyebrows shot up when the angel shuffled over and stretched his other wing to wrap around Brian’s shoulders.

 

“What? You didn’t know?” John whispered, nodding to the two of them. “They’ve been making eyes at each other forever.”

 

“I knew!” Freddie hissed back. He looked back over to the pair and felt himself almost melt at the adorableness. “They are just too sweet though.”

 

John hummed, looking a bit tense. “I guess.”

 

The photographer interrupted their whispered conversation and ushered them together. It was a bit strange pressing against his friends, and they had to awkwardly hold the position while the photographer fiddled with the camera.

 

“This is weird,” Brian whispered and got a loud laugh from Roger in response.

 

“Super weird, but it would be weirder if I were the only one naked,” Roger relaxed his wings somewhat, letting them stretch out and preen for the camera. “Thank you all.”

 

“We’d be naked every day with you if we could Rog,” John teased, and Freddie grinned at the blush that lit up Brian’s cheeks.

 

“Brian would at least,” Freddie whispered to John, getting a stinging slap on his arm in response.

 

It was worth having to cover the red mark with his hand for John’s scandalized expression.


	16. Chapter 16

Their names had been scribbled onto a paper and tacked to the dressing room door.

 

It wasn’t much, not even properly centered on the paper, but it still took Roger’s breath away. Part of it was the fact that he could _read_ the word but most of it was because that was their names. They were headlining at a popular music venue and people were coming to see them.

 

This wasn’t just playing in a pub and having a few people listen in as they sipped on their drinks. This was a _concert_. People paid to listen to the music that they had written together.

 

“Um…I’m sorry,” the venue manager blushed brightly, looking between them. “I just assumed that your fourth member was-“

 

“He is,” Brian interrupted. “This is his dressing room? Look at that Rog, right next to mine!”

 

Roger smiled back, stomach sinking at the realization of being alone. He had always followed his master around like a shadow, never given an ounce of privacy. Was that what being human was? Being alone all the time?

 

As much as he wanted to follow Brian into his dressing room, Roger stepped into his own and flinched at the door closing behind him. Anxiety clawed at his stomach and he rocked on his feet a bit, clutching the bag containing his stage clothes in his hands.

 

This was stupid.

 

He had no reason to be stressed.

 

Brian was right next door.

 

Still, after spending his entire life in the company of others (good or bad) he got nervous being on his own. It reminded him of being locked in the far too small room at the shelter or throwing everything in his stomach up while locked in the bathroom.

 

But…maybe rockstars didn’t worry about that kind of thing.

 

Maybe Brian and the others were thrilled at their own dressing rooms. They probably didn’t want him lingering around them, getting in their way. They weren’t scared to be on their own.

 

So, Roger took a deep breath and started making himself at home. He wandered around the small room and put his clothes out on the ratty looking couch. He tried not to focus on the sound of people milling about outside of his room, remembering how hard he had to listen at the shelter for the trainer’s coming to his room.

 

No.

 

That’s not what’s happening.

 

He was a free man here.

 

Still, his hands shook as he pulled on the flowing black shirt with metallic designs and snug black pants. He fluffed at his hair in the mirror and applied the slight bit of eyeliner that Freddie had given him. At first glance Roger was pretty impressed with himself, spreading his wings out to get the full effect.

 

“So, you have a last name now?” His wings blocked the door opening and he jumped, spinning around while tucking them in tight. Tim smiled at him, leaning against the closed door. “And shouldn’t you be on your knees when a human comes into the room?”

 

“I don’t have to do that now,” Roger tried to keep his chin up.

 

“Your masters told you that?”

 

Roger shook his head sharply. “They aren’t my masters.”

 

A strange look passed across Tim’s face. “That’s funny. They bought you from me. They legally own you, or they will until they lose that contract.”

 

“That won’t happen,” Roger backed up against the makeup counter, gripping the edge. “Mr. Foster is using our pay to pay off the contract and then I’ll be theirs and they’ll…they’ll treat me like a free man.”

 

Tim gave him that stupid pitying look like one would give a child. “I think it’s wonderful you got this gig, I do. Hell, you even have the chance of putting out an album. But…how many other people have been in your shoes? It’ll take a damn miracle for you all to take off and that’s the only way you’ll be making enough money to pay off that contract.”

 

The angel stiffened and shook his head but couldn’t find any words.

 

“Hey, on the upside if you do lose the contract it won’t be that bad. You’ll belong to Ray Foster instead of being sent to repossessions, so I guess that’s good,” Tim raised his eyebrows. He then let out an obviously fake gasp. “Do you think that’s why he signed you? I mean the wing is unfortunate but-“

 

“Why are you here?” Roger’s heart was in his throat.

 

“I saw that you all were playing and wanted to thank Brian for the lovely note he sent me with the check,” something dark flashed in Tim’s eyes. “Plus, you left these at my flat.”

 

He held up a small plastic bag of Scrabble tiles and Roger felt his breath catch in his throat. “I was confused though…why would you have tiles that spell out brain?”

 

Roger froze, mind trying to connect what Tim had just said to what he was actually holding. When he finally found the words, they came out harsh and sharp. “Are you fucking stupid?”

 

For a second, Tim’s smirk faltered. “What?”

 

“It doesn’t say brain you idiot, it says Brian,” Roger snatched the bag out of his hand. “God, that’s just sad. I had no idea you were that stupid.”

 

Tim was clearly not expecting to lose the upper hand and floundered for a bit. “Don’t you-“

 

“You don’t get to fucking tell me what to do or not to do,” Roger shoved his chest hard so that Tim hit the door with a loud thud. He wrenched open the door and pushed Tim through it. “Get the fuck out of here. Get out, get out!”

 

John’s door opened across the hall and he leaned out, brow furrowed. As soon as he saw Tim his eyes narrowed, and a dark scowl turned his lips down. “What the hell are you doing here?”

 

Tim hesitated, clearly not having this down the way he wanted. “I just-“

 

“Is there security? How the hell did he get back here?” John shouted, getting the attention of a few people down the hall. Brian also opened his door and Roger didn’t think he had ever seen rage like that.

 

Brian stormed towards Tim who skittered backwards, hands held out. “Come on now Brian, I was just wishing you good luck.”

 

He let out a squeak as Brian twisted his hands in his shirt and slammed him into the wall. “I told you that I would fucking kill you if you ever talked to him again.”

 

“Brian stop,” Roger was surprised at how strong his voice came out. “He’s not worth it.”

 

Brian paused, turning to look at Roger. “Did he hurt you?”

 

“No,” Roger shook his head.

 

“Good,” the guitarist sucked in a quick breath between his teeth. Then he turned back to Tim. “Get the fuck out Tim. You’re done here, we’ve moved past you. You don’t get to make yourself feel big by belittling others. You’re fucking pathetic.”

 

Tim opened his mouth like he was about to say something, eyes flinty and dangerous. Then the security rounded the corner and he raised his hands up in surrender. “Enjoy my sloppy seconds May.”

 

For a second Roger was scared Brian was going to punch him. Instead Brian just watched as Tim left the hallway and only when he went out of view did he relax slightly. He turned panicked eyes to Roger. “Are you sure he didn’t hurt you?”

 

“No, I’m fine,” Roger shook his head. He hesitated for a minute before taking in a deep breath. “But…I’d rather not be in a room by myself.”

 

Brian’s eyes went soft and he nodded. “Then let’s all pile in Freddie’s room, his is the biggest.”

 

They opened Freddie’s door to meet the surprised gaze of their frontman. “Can I help you?”

 

“We’re all going to hang out in here with you,” John breezed in, giving Freddie a look that promised he would explain later. “Since you got an unfairly large room.”

 

Freddie raised his eyebrows and nodded. “Well, they give the biggest room to the star darling.”

 

It was so much better being with the others. Roger was able to relax, surrounded by people he love and trusted. They laughed and joked around as they got ready and, by the time they were called out Roger had almost put the earlier incident out of his mind.

 

They played as beautifully as ever. Freddie pulled the crowd in and both Brian and John amazed them with their skills. Roger had decided to try something new in rehearsals and got a cheer as he used his wings to gently play the cymbals.

 

The concert ended and Freddie waved him forward, wrapping an arm around Roger’s shoulders as he raised his drumsticks.

 

This was it. This was how they achieved their dreams.

 

All four of them were on a high, happily chatting about the show in Freddie’s dressing room when Paul opened the door. He of course focused only on Freddie which made John roll his eyes and shoot a look to the other two.

 

“Wonderful show gents,” he beamed, clapping Freddie on the shoulder as he took a few big gulps of his beer. “Ray wanted me to give you your check.”

 

Freddie bounced a bit on his feet and accepted the little slip of paper. Then his face fell, and he frowned. “Um…this is it?”

 

Instantly John was at his side, clearly confused. “We were told we were going to get more.”

 

“Of course! That was before the studio fees, the rehearsal rental, the media fees, publicity and all that,” Paul shrugged. “It’s just the beginning after all. The money will come.”

 

“Did he take the money for Roger out of it?” Something cold settled in Roger’s stomach.

 

“Oh…no he didn’t,” Paul pulled a face. “We can but…I mean you boys need to pay your rent and get food, right? Maybe we just don’t take anything out this time and catch up next time.”

 

Tim’s words spun in Roger’s head and he felt dizzy for a moment. If they just kept pushing the payments back, then there was a chance they wouldn’t be able to pay the contract off. Was Ray really trying to wait them out?

 

“Shit,” Freddie scowled before taking in a deep breath. “It’s fine. Soon we’ll be making millions and it won’t even matter.”

 

But, for the first time Roger wasn’t so sure.


	17. Chapter 17

Brian’s heart almost stopped when he looked up at saw Roger just a few steps away, awkwardly hovering. For a being with such beautiful, huge wings he could sneak around as quietly as a mouse.

 

“Christ!” He jumped and pressed a hand to his chest.

 

“Sorry,” Roger gave him a crooked smile, not looking sorry in the least. “May I?”

 

Ever since they had shared that kiss Roger had a bit more confidence when it came to spending time with Brian. He spent a good amount of the night lounging on the bed, flipping through books or whispering with Brian about song ideas. Of course, they also spent some time sharing shy kisses.

 

 Brian scooted over on the bed and Roger slid in next to him, shifting a bit until his wings were resting comfortably behind him. The angel rested his head on Brian’s shoulder, and he stared down at the book in his hands.

 

“What are you reading?”

 

“It’s one of my old textbooks,” Brian chuckled. “An Introduction to the Study of Stellar Structure.”

 

“Sounds thrilling,” Roger deadpanned. “Why are you still reading these? I thought you had graduated?”

 

Because of Queen Brian hadn’t attended his own graduation ceremony. He had just gotten his degree in the mail, but it still filled him with pride every time he saw it hanging over his bed.

 

“I find myself kind of missing it to be honest. I love Queen, I do, but this was always kind of my dream,” he smiled slightly. “I might go back and get my doctorate eventually.”

 

Roger hummed. “I think I’d like university.”

 

“Oh, you would! I can see it every time you read,” the angel laughed when Brian pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “You could study whatever you want. It’s just about growing everything you know and learning things you didn’t know were possible.”

 

Roger suddenly looked very sad and Brian stopped talking, throat going tight. Regardless of how much Roger might enjoy university he would never be able to attend. It was just another reminder of all the things that he would never get to do.

 

His thoughts were interrupted as Roger tilted his face up and pressed their lips together. Brian quickly pushed the book off his lap and reached up to cup his jaw, angling their mouths perfectly. The kiss was the same as always, sweet and gentle.

 

Then things changed.

 

Roger’s nimble fingers scrambled at his belt and the kiss got a little bit firmer. The mood went from soft and slow to frantic. Brian tried to take Roger’s hands in his own, but the angel just pulled them away, tackling the button again.

 

“Whoa, whoa,” Brian breathed, breaking the kiss. “Slow down.”

 

“No,” Roger’s voice cracked on the word and Brian frowned. “I don’t want to stop.”

 

“Roger, come on,” Brian felt a little panicked as Roger managed to ruck up his t-shirt and pressed a series of hot kisses down his chest. “Roger!”

 

The angel shook his head shortly, eyes dark. When he managed to yank the zipper down on Brian’s pants Brian knew he didn’t have any other choice. He put his hands on Roger’s shoulders and shoved him back as hard as he could. Surprised, Roger’s wings fanned out in a desperate attempt to keep his balance but he still fell back onto the floor with a grunt.

 

“Fucking hell Roger,” Brian panted, pulling down his shirt and zipping up his pants. “What was that about?”

 

Roger got to his knees, reaching out for his waistband again but Brian grabbed his wrists. The angel struggled a bit but then sagged forward, the fight sapped out of him. “Don’t you dare tell me what I want and don’t want.”

 

“No! This is what I don’t want,” Roger flinched at that. “What the hell is going on?”

 

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry,” Roger’s chest hitched, and he pulled his wings in tight to his sides. “I didn’t mean…I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

 

It was like all the growth they had made earlier had been reversed. Roger looked like the scared, nervous creature that had moved into their flat a few months ago. He was fidgeting, eyes locked on the floor, and breathing harshly.

 

“What is going through your head?” Brian asked softly, shifting so he was sitting on the floor next to Roger. The angel hesitated and he reached over to gently take his chin in his fingers. “Remember what I always tell you?”

 

“That I can speak my mind and won’t be punished for it,” Roger mumbled, getting a smile in return.

 

“Exactly.”

 

Roger scrunched his nose up and pulled his wings around himself, a clear sign that he was uncomfortable. “I just wanted one time…one time…I…it’s something that mas…Tim said the other day.”

 

White hot rage seared through Brian, making him clench his teeth and suck in a quick breath. “So that fucker did do something to you.”

 

“No, no, no,” Roger shook his head. “He didn’t touch me…in fact, I pushed him.”

 

“You did?” The anger lessened a bit and Brian couldn’t help but smile. “That’s my boy.”

 

Roger shot him a look but smiled slightly. Then he returned his gaze to his feet, sighing. “He told me about Mr. Foster. He said that he bought out my contract because he knew that we couldn’t…that we would never succeed. He said that he bought the contract because once we failed, I would belong to him.”

 

“No, no, no,” Brian shook his head. “We’re going to do it Roger, we’re going to make it big and buy out the contract.”

 

“You really, honestly think so?” Roger let out a humorless laugh. “Out of the hundreds and hundreds of new bands trying to make it big, how many actually do? What if no one buys the album and they don’t sign us for another one?”

 

The hopelessness in his eyes made Brian’s chest feel tight. “Rog-“

 

“And how could we ever pay him back when we are hardly making enough money to pay rent? He knows we’re going to fail. He knows that and we won’t have any other choice,” Roger pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. “And I’d rather be put down than let that man touch me. I won’t become his broken thing.”

 

“That won’t happen,” Brian turned so he was facing the angel fully. He could feel tears burning at his own eyes but refused to let them fall. “Hear me Roger, you will never be owned again.”

 

Roger smiled sadly at him and reached down to take his hand. “That’s not the world we live in. I just wanted…I just wanted to see what it felt like with someone who cared.”

 

A few tears slipped down Brian’s cheeks. He looked down at their intertwined fingers. “You deserve that, but not because you live in constant fear of what happens tomorrow. We will fight for you Roger. No matter what happens we will fight for you. When you decide to give yourself to someone like that it’s going to be because you love them, not because you feel like you have to.”

 

“How do you know when you love someone?” Roger asked quietly.

 

“I don’t know,” he sighed, leaning back against the bed. “I guess you just know it when you know it.”

 

Roger hummed and nodded, fixing Brian with a stare that left him feeling warm. He squeezed their hands and sighed. “I’m sorry I made you feel uncomfortable. I just…I don’t know what I’m doing.”

 

“Me neither,” Brian whispered.

 

They sat in silence, side by side, for a few minutes. The possibility that Ray wouldn’t let them continue just so he could get Roger was terrifying. He knew that the chances of them becoming the superstars that they dreamed of were impossibly small, but failure was not an option.

 

“Why don’t I go get those biscuits you like?” Brian reached over to pat at his leg, smiling when Roger nodded gratefully. He stood up, ruffled Roger’s hair as he passed, and walked out of the door. It was a bit late, so he tried his best to walk as quiet as possible. John and Freddie were nightmares when they were woken up.

 

Then, he saw John leaning against the counter sipping at a cup of tea and relaxed slightly. “What are you doing up?”

 

“Couldn’t sleep,” John mumbled into the cup.

 

“Hmm, same,” Brian made his way to the cupboard, riffling in through the boxes of cereals they had.

 

“Yeah? Roger keeping you up?” John’s voice came out a bit icy, making Brian pause. “He’s in your room, isn’t he?”

 

“He is,” Brian found the box of cookies he was looking for and straightened up. “What are you implying?”

 

Then John’s eyes turned mean. They narrowed and turned flinty as he put the mug of tea on the counter. “I’m implying that maybe you are taking advantage of him.”

 

Brian was at a loss for words. “What the hell are you talking about?”

 

“I’m saying that there is a clearly traumatized angel in your bedroom. He obviously likes you and trusts you and it’s just a bit…suspicious,” the bassist waved his hand lightly. “It just makes me wonder if you would take advantage of that trust.”

 

White noise buzzed in Brian’s ears and he stared at John. “Are you fucking kidding me? I’m not…I’m not having sex with Roger!”

 

“But you want to. It’s not all entirely innocent, is it?” John pursed his lips.

 

“Keep you damn voice down,” Brian growled, feeling his ears burning.

 

“Freddie went out hours ago,” John shrugged. “He won’t be back until early morning. Why? Are you nervous your secret relationship will get out?”

 

The box of cookies crinkled as Brian gripped it tightly. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m not making him do anything he doesn’t want to. In fact, I told him not to when he came on to me.”

 

“What?”

 

“He’s scared John, terrified. I didn’t want this to happen…I just wanted to support him and help him but…shit, he’s kind and sweet and…” Brian sighed. “I really care for him.”

 

John’s tense posture softened a bit and he frowned. “You really do?”

 

“I’ve never felt this way about anyone. I tried to ignore it, but I think he feels the same for me. I’m scared that I’ll hurt him,” Brian shuffled a bit. “I swear I’m not forcing him into anything he doesn’t want to do.”

 

The other man nodded thoughtfully, loosening his arms from around his waist. “Shit…I’m sorry Brian, I think I freaked out.”

 

“That’s an understatement.”

 

“That’s fair,” John chuckled and then his eye went a bit faraway. “I can’t help but think about how excited I was to see him at first. I thought honestly that he was going to be some kind of animal and…he’s good. He’s my friend. He’s my friend who has never been to school or eaten cake. I know that he would be such an easy target and…Christ, Brian he likes you. When I saw him first after he broke his wing he kept asking for you over and over again.”

 

“He did?”

 

John nodded. “Yeah, he kept apologizing and begging for you. He would do anything for you and that scared me. I know you wouldn’t hurt him…I had hoped not but I couldn’t be sure.”

 

“You were just looking out for him,” Brian said softly, smiling when John nodded. “I’m terrified all the time too. I just want to do the right thing and he’s so hurt and scared. He’s constantly worried about us losing the contract.”

 

“Because he thinks Foster is going to drop us and take him in?” John cocked his head to the side. “Yeah, Freddie and I were talking about that earlier.”

 

Brian swallowed and leaned against the wall, heart sinking. “What are we going to do?”

 

“We’re going to fight. We’re going to fight for our music, which is amazing. We are going to fight for our album, which is going to be a hit. And we’re going to fight for Roger,” John reached over and patted his shoulder. “And if you both lean on each other during that fight…maybe that’s okay. I’ll try not to get too judgey either.”

 

“Thanks John,” Brian felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “So…you and Freddie know about us?”

 

“Freddie thinks you’re the cutest thing ever,” John rolled his eyes. “But yeah, you’re not that subtle. Why would you keep it a secret anyway?”

 

Brian felt himself blush again and shrugged. “I guess I was scared to make it…real. If it’s a real thing then I had a chance of screwing it up.”

 

“Well, it’s real now,” John smiled. “Try not to screw it up.”

 

“You are always so reassuring,” Brian rolled his eyes. There was a beat of silence before John patted him on the arm and walked back to his bedroom, leaving him holding a crumpled box of cookies. He smiled softly to himself and went to his own room, shutting the door behind him.

 

Roger had fallen asleep, curled up on the bed. He didn’t even stir when Brian brushed his hair back from his face. Brian felt his chest swell with emotion, feeling like it would almost burst. Right then, things felt pretty damn real.

 

Maybe that’s what love felt like.


	18. Chapter 18

Roger had been to a party before.

 

Tim had brought him to a friend’s New Years Eve party. He had been dressed in nothing more than a gold shimmering sarong around his hips and glitter across his cheekbones. By the time the clock had struck midnight the sarong was gone, the glitter was smeared down his face, and he was in too much pain to walk.

 

So, he wasn’t exactly thrilled to go to a party even if it was in their honor.

 

Their album release party was held in a swanky bar that Ray had rented out. He had reached out to some of his contacts and the room was packed with the who’s who of the music industry. People who could make or break their career mingled around with each other.

 

And they were all staring at Roger blankly.

 

There were angels working at the party wore short dresses or were shirtless and wearing tiny shorts. They had bland smiles on their face as they wove through the party goers, passing out champagne or finger foods. It had to be strange seeing one dressed smartly in a jacket and tie.

 

He felt beyond out of place, staring into the bubbles of his champagne. People kept bumping into him, no matter how tightly he pulled in his wings, and he just wanted to be anywhere else.

 

“Are you just going to spend the whole night staring at your drink?” Brian asked, a small smile on his handsome face. “Do you want something else to drink?”

 

Roger shook his head, not wanting the angels to have to accommodate him…to _serve_ him. To appease Brian he took a sip of the champagne and startled a bit at the taste. It was a hundred times better than the bitter beer and a million times better than the burn of the vodka.

 

“It’s good,” he smiled.

 

“I thought you might like it,” Brian chuckled. “Can you believe all of this? We made an album!”

 

A thrill ran through Roger and he found himself grinning widely. “I know! People are actually listening to us! People are going to know our songs!”

 

If they weren’t at a fancy party, they could have clasped hands and jumped in a circle. It felt like a dream, like they were actually dreaming, and Roger prayed that he would never wake up.

 

But then, Ray walked up to them and things went south.

 

“Why here are the men of the hour!” He sang, champagne sloshing out of his glass as he stumbled over. “You boys need to mingle, split up and go chat up some of the executives. One album is wonderful and all but it doesn’t hurt to have friends in this industry.”

 

“Of course,” Brian gave him a tight smile and placed a hand on Roger’s shoulder, ready to steer him away.

 

“No, no,” Ray chuckled, shaking his head. “Split up. I want you both chatting to as many people as you can.”

 

Roger felt Brian go stiff next to him but he knew it wouldn’t help arguing. Instead, he nodded and gave Brian a little wave. As he started walking towards the other end of the bar Brian grabbed his arm and leaned in close.

 

“I’ll keep my eye on you, okay? Don’t take a drink from anyone else and don’t put your drink down,” Brian said quietly and Roger nodded, nerves making his stomach twist.

 

They separated and Roger took a few awkward steps away from him. He had never mingled in his life, never made small talk or tried to speak to strangers. Anxiety sat mean and acidic in his stomach as he looked around.

 

“Aw, you look like a lost puppy,” a man cooed next to him and Roger gripped the stem of his champagne flute tightly. “Come here sweetness.”

 

Roger hesitated but made his way over to the circle of people. There were three men and two women who smiled at him, all holding glasses and sipping on their drinks. The man who had waved him over was middle aged and portly, sweat glistening on his brow.

 

“Are you one of Ray’s then?” The man leered before turning to the others. “Ray said this bar had a few back rooms if we wanted more private entertainment.

 

The angel went perfectly still, hardly able to breathe. This could not be happening.

 

“Are you fucking kidding me Chris?” One of the women, a tall brunette, hissed. “No one wants to go have an orgy with an angel and your fat ass. I’m so fucking done with you.”

 

“Too good for some fun then Lynn?” It was obvious that the rest of the group was annoyed with the man. “You wouldn’t take him for a ride?”

 

“I’m not one of Mr. Foster’s angels,” Roger spoke up, surprising himself with how strong his voice came out. “I’m Roger Taylor, the drummer of Queen.”

 

The group stared at him in silence before the man, Chris, burst out laughing. “Seriously?”

 

“Who the hell’s party do you think we’re at?” The other man asked, rolling his eyes. “Honest to God, you’ve had too much to drink. Go the hell home.”

 

Chris looked between them, clearly expecting this to be some kind of joke. Then he knocked back his drink, flipped them off, and stumbled off.

 

“Sorry about him,” Lynn said, turning her attention back to Roger. “He’s our boss’s son or we would never speak to that ass again. He gets drink and gross and…ugh, I just can’t stand him.”

 

“Will you get in trouble?” Roger asked.

 

“He won’t remember,” the man laughed, shaking his head. “He’ll pass out in a booth and it’ll be fine. By the way, I’m Charles. This is Lynn, Jessica, and Jim.”

 

“Lovely to meet you,” Roger felt himself relax slightly. These people weren’t looking at him like a thing. They looked genuinely interested in him. “So…you all know Ray?”

 

They all smiled, clearly knowing that he wasn’t used to being in this situation. Thankfully Jessica answered, her voice sweet. “We are lawyers, dull profession I know. Basically, we were all forced into the career by our parents but rebelled by working with rock and roll bands.”

 

“I’m sure you see all kinds of crazy things,” Roger laughed.

 

“You can say that. It’s not common to see an angel playing in a band,” Charles asked, but he didn’t seem nasty or belittling. “How in the world did you get involved with Queen?”

 

“Oh…I was…” Roger hesitated. For once, he was having a nice conversation. Did he really want to make the conversation awkward by telling them his past?

 

“Regardless, you all are amazing,” Lynn interrupted, saving Roger from having to scramble for an excuse. “And your music is really interesting. It’s all very creative like…what’s the song…My Fairy King. It was like listening to a fairy tale!”

 

“That’s actually based on angel folklore,” Roger said, smiling when the four humans seemed interested. “Freddie wrote it, but it’s based on some of the stories my mother told us about our people.”

 

“That’s fascinating,” Jim’s eyes were bright.

 

“Yeah, we’re going to write a few more songs about the stories as well,” Roger felt a sudden rush of excitement, then a bit of self awareness as he realized how intense he might seem. “Sorry…it’s just exciting.”

 

“I bet,” Jim laughed. “You boys are incredibly talented.”

 

“Thanks! We-“ Freddie suddenly appeared at his side, wide smile in place and cheeks flushed.

 

“Hello! I hope you don’t mind me stealing our Roger, do you?” Freddie’s hand was warm on his back. “Ray wants to give a speech and the band is being requested to be there.”

 

“Of course, couldn’t keep you from your fans,” Lynn smiled. “It was wonderful to meet you Roger Taylor.”

 

“You too,” Roger grinned. “I hope to chat with you all later.”

 

Jim held up a finger and pulled a business card out of his pocket, handing it over. “In case Queen is ever in need of a lawyer. Who knows, if you boys get big enough you’ll need someone to fight for you. I’d be happy to do that.”

 

Roger took the card and gave them a farewell wave. Their singer pressed against his side as they started walking toward the front. “Are you okay? Brian told me that Ray made you split up.”

 

“I’m great, they were super nice,” Roger smiled, rolling his eyes when Freddie snatched the card out of his hand. “You don’t need to hover over me. I can handle myself.”

 

“I know you can. I just can’t trust this…Jim Beach? Ugh, what a dreadful name,” Freddie gave a fake shudder and slid the card into Roger’s back pocket.

 

The speech Ray gave was dreadful. They had to stand up there and smile awkwardly as a clearly inebriated Ray slurred his way through. He didn’t even mention Roger throughout the speech, instead talking about the other members’ talents.

 

“So, grab a glass so we can toast,” he encouraged as a few angels carried trays of champagne. “Come on now, don’t just ogle the help!”

 

Roger pursed his lips, ignoring how many of their guests laughed, and stepped toward the nearest angel to get a glass. The angel paused when she saw him, eyes widening and mouth dropping. After a moment she smiled shyly and leaned in towards him.

 

“Oh, mother Mercury, look what they’ve done to me,” she sang softly, voice weak. Then she continued passing out drinks like before.

 

A tightness in his chest overwhelmed him for a second as he stood there, glass in hand. Their music had actually reached someone, it had made some impact. If it could reach the angels…maybe it could change some of the human’s minds as well.

 

He, Roger Taylor, could make a difference.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few quick notes!
> 
> First off, thank you all so much for your wonderful comments! Honestly, it makes my day every time I read them! I'm also posting my story on Tumblr at queenofallcorgis if you would like to chat there or send in a prompt or question :). 
> 
> Next, I know nothing about Mott the Hoople. I only know that they were super supportive of Queen in the beginning. If I've gotten anything wrong please let me know!
> 
> Also! I am thinking about starting a new story as well. Hallloween is a-coming and I'm thinking of a spooky fic. Look forward to that ;)
> 
> Thanks so much! You are all amazing, beautiful people! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Freddie tried his best not to fidget with the scarf around his neck.

 

As much as he loved being the frontman of Queen, and as proud as he was about that title, it was a lot of pressure. He had to practically sell their band and with how…unconventional they were it was a little difficult. Ray had been trying to get them to be an opening act for a touring band for a while now and most bands had turned them down.

 

_We don’t want a band with a gimmick._

_Angels are distracting._

_Will we have to watch it to make sure it doesn’t get out of control?_

He came back from these meetings with a smirk and a story about how the band wasn’t just right. It was clear that after the first two bands rejected them that no one believed the story, but he couldn’t tell them the truth. He couldn’t crush Roger like that.

 

The door opened and Freddie sat up straighter, turning to see Ray and another man walking in followed by the quiet angel. The man had a curly head of hair that rivaled Brian’s and an easy smile on his face.

 

“Freddie!” Ray cried, acting like they were just the best of friends. Freddie stood and shook his hand, trying to keep a smile on his face. “I’d like to introduce you to Ian, the lead singer of Mott the Hoople.”

 

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Freddie hoped his hand wasn’t trembling when he shook the older man’s hand. “I’m a huge fan.”

 

Ian smiled back, eyes warm. “That’s very kind. I’ve heard your album and it’s quite good. You boys are very talented.”

 

A thrill ran through Freddie and he felt himself preen a bit. An actual rock star was complementing them, something he had never thought would happen. It was moments like this where he felt like he was dreaming.

 

“Now, I’ll have to warn you that Queen is a bit different,” Ray said mockingly, lifting his hands in a shrug. “They have an angel as their drummer, an actual angel.”

 

“Really?” Ian’s eyebrows almost disappeared into his hairline.

 

Ray laughed and Freddie found himself biting the inside of his cheek. “He’s a pretty face, real pretty. He’s a slim little blond thing with these big blue eyes and blue wings. I mean…he can play the drums but they are having to teach him as they go. But hey, every band needs a thing.”

 

“He’s incredibly talented,” Freddie blurted, recognizing the look of doubt in Ian’s eyes.

 

“In the band and in bed eh?” Ray laughed and a frown graced Ian’s face.

 

“No!” Anger rushed through Freddie. He was done with Ray scaring away every band that they could play with. “Roger is a part of our band. He has just as much value as the rest of us. He’s a musician, just like me and just like you.”

 

“Just like-“ Ray’s sarcastic response was interrupted by Ian.

 

“He’s the one playing in the album?” Ian asked and Freddie nodded. “And he just learned? That’s actually pretty damn impressive.”

 

A huge grin spread across Freddie’s face and he nodded furiously. “Right! He’s fantastic!”

 

“I’m in,” Ian smiled at a now annoyed Ray. “You boys are talented and interesting.”

 

“That’s…wonderful,” Ray said flatly. “The other bands we asked didn’t really want to tote around an angel, thought it would be like petsitting. Who knows how they act when out of a stable environment, you know? You might have a weepy, neurotic mess on your hands.”

 

Ian stared at him blankly for a bit before giving Freddie a look, rolling his eyes slightly. “Your angel will behave?”

 

“Darling, I am more likely to cause trouble than him,” Freddie gave him a wink and Ian laughed brightly. “I promise we will not let you down.”

 

“Then let’s do it,” Ian extended a hand. “Welcome aboard.”

 

Not even the sour look on Ray’s face could dull the feeling spreading through Freddie’s body.

 

“September thirteenth!” He shouted as soon as he threw open the door to the flat, startling everyone inside. “That’s the day Queen becomes a household name!”

 

“What in the hell are you talking about?” Brian asked, hand still pressed to his chest from the scare.

 

“We are going to be touring with Mott the Hoople,” Freddie waved his hands, bouncing a bit on his toes. “We are going to be on tour with them for almost four months.”

 

John gaped. “No way.”

 

“All across the UK, Germany, Luxembourg, and even a show in fucking Australia!” Freddie knew his voice was getting high pitched, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. “Ray was even talking about a tour in the US.”

 

The other three just stared at him for a moment before John jumped to his feet, grinning from ear to ear. Freddie noticed that Roger and Brian shared a look, smiling at each other sweetly. He ignored it, letting the two of them keep their secrets.

 

“We’re going to get so much press and…and get a steady paycheck,” John rambled, eyes wide and happy. “This is it!”

 

This was it.

 

Even when Freddie was standing on the stage of the Golders Green Hippodrome a few weeks later he could hardly believe it. Their name was listed under ‘supporting act’ on the poster of an actual rock band. He could feel it in the air, it was the start of something beautiful.

 

The stage was bustling with activity, roadies shuffling around to make sure everything was perfect. A goofy grin spread across his face when he saw the bass drum he had painted their crest on. This was _their_ stage.

 

Brian had been following Ian around like a puppy, eyes locked on his guitar. He had to wonder if he also had the same awestruck look on his face. He probably did.

 

On the other hand, Roger just lingered by the back of the stage by the drums. It was obvious he was uncomfortable with all the people milling around. His wings were held in tight to his body but people still paused and stared. Thankfully, John stood close to him and his body language kept anyone from approaching him.

 

“Hey,” a roadie called out, looking flustered and annoyed. “Is the set up good?”

 

John didn’t respond at first, too focused on his conversation with Roger. It took a few waves before he realized the roadie was talking to him. “I’m sorry…what?”

 

“Is the set up good?” The roadie sighed.

 

“I don’t know. I don’t use them,” John raised his eyebrows. “Ask Roger.”

 

The roadie scoffed. “I have a lot to do and don’t want to waste my time. Is it good?”

 

“Like I said, I don’t play the drums. He does,” John’s voice went icy and he nodded towards Roger. “It’s easy, I promise. Just say, ‘Mr. Taylor, are the drums set up to your liking?’”

 

Freddie had to admire John’s ability to literally shock someone into silence. The roadie gaped at him before storming off, muttering under his breath. With a roll of his eyes, John turned back to keep chatting with Roger.

 

The weight of what was about to happen settled heavy on his shoulders.

 

This was their chance. This was their chance to make their name known, to put a mark on the music world. If they screwed this up everything was done. They would never get a second album, they would never make the money to buy out Roger’s contract, and no one would ever sign them again.

 

So, they would just have to put on a hell of a show.

 

Freddie looked at the other members of the band, at his family. Roger and John were chatting happily, giggling at some private joke. Brian was obsessing over every little detail, stressed as always. He couldn’t let them down, he had to put on a brave face and not show them how terrified he was.

 

“You alright there Fred?” Brian asked, glancing over at him.

 

“More than alright,” Freddie scoffed. “Just ready to start being a rock star.”

 

The tension bled out of Brian’s shoulders and he smiled softly. “You seem confident.”

 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Freddie raised his eyebrows.

 

He believed in them. He believed in Queen. Together they could do amazing, beautiful things.

 

It was time to show the rest of the world that.


	20. Chapter 20

Brian had to admit he was feeling a bit…smothered.

 

If they weren’t on a tour bus they were on stage or in a hotel. He didn’t think he could look anywhere and not see a sea of blue feathers. Roger was never more than a few feet away from him, all bright smiles and rapid talking.

 

Truthfully, Brian felt guilty. He truly enjoyed spending time with Roger, he did, but he felt a bit overwhelmed. They had just started this relationship…thing and it felt a bit much to suddenly spend every second together.

 

 If he was eating Roger was sitting next to him at the table.

 

If he was tuning his guitar Roger was behind him working on his drums.

 

If he was trying to sleep in the uncomfortable tour bus Roger was in the bunk right next to him.

 

So, he felt a bit justified in turning his back on Roger as the angel got into bed next to him.

 

It was one of the rare times where they could actually stay in a hotel. Brian had thought that being on tour would be nonstop partying but most of them chose to get whatever sleep was offered to them whenever they could get it.

 

The bed was uncomfortable and too small for the two of them, but Roger hadn’t been booked his own room. It didn’t seem to matter though as Roger was far more comfortable sleeping in Brian’s room. No one batted an eye at the sleeping arrangements, Freddie had even cooed at them and John had winked, but Brian still felt a bit strange walking into the room with an angel at his side.

 

“Do you think Mr. Griffin would mind if I asked him to show me that trick on the snare?” Roger asked excitedly, undoing the buttons at the back of his shirt so he could pull it off. “I tried it a few times but can’t get it quite right.”

 

Brain hummed and pulled the blankets over himself, turning on his side. “Maybe.”

 

“Oh! And maybe he can help me with the cymbals too!” Roger hopped in the bed, making Brian clench his jaw in annoyance as he was bounced a bit.

 

“Maybe…goodnight Roger,” Brian closed his eyes, but Roger didn’t seem to get the hint.

 

“I mean, I’ve gotten good at that, but I could be better. I just have to-“

 

“Goodnight Roger,” Brian said firmly, and Roger went quiet.

 

 He was able to close his eyes and drift off for a moment before he felt the bed shift and heard Roger get out of bed. There was a pause and then Roger got onto the floor, quiet and careful. Brian sat up, flicked on the light, and frowned down at the angel who was curled up on the floor.

 

“What the hell are you doing?” He hissed and Roger flinched, looking up at him with bright eyes.

 

“You’re…you’re angry with me…”

 

Brian blinked at him. “Angry? No! Roger I’m…I’m tired and stressed. I’m sorry I snapped.”

 

The angel shook his head slightly. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Just, get into bed,” Brian huffed but Roger didn’t move. “Roger.”

 

“I’d rather stay down here,” his voice was tight. “I don’t…I don’t feel safe being in the bed with you when you’re angry.”

 

For a moment, Brian couldn’t breathe. He tried to scramble for his words, but nothing came. “What? What the hell do you mean?”

 

Roger looked away. “You’re angry. I’ve never had…wonderful experiences being in the same bed as someone who’s angry. It leads to pain and…I feel safer down here.”

 

“I would never, ever hurt you,” it felt like his chest was growing tighter and tighter. “I swear. I’m just…being angry is a normal emotion. I promise I would never hurt you because of it. I’m just tired and need some…alone time I guess?”

 

Roger looked like he had been struck. “Alone time?”

 

“Not like…” Brian scowled, hating how this was coming out. “This is the best time of my life. I love spending the time with you and touring but…I’m a bit of an introvert by nature and it’s hard being with someone constantly. Don’t you ever feel like that?”

 

The angel just started up at him.

 

“You must want some time to yourself, right?”

 

“I’m annoying you by being around you,” Roger whispered, making Brian shake his head. “You’re getting tired of me.”

 

“No!”

 

“I’m sorry. I just…I don’t know where else to go. I don’t know what to do,” Roger’s voice trembled. “I don’t have a purpose here, not like before…not like you all do. No one talks to me because they don’t want to talk to the ‘band pet’ and if they do…they say some horrible things.”

 

“What?” Brian felt everything go icy.

 

“Some of the roadies have been making…suggestive remarks or touching me. It’s fine, I can handle it…I just know that they don’t call me a whore when I’m with you,” Roger whispered, and Brian’s heart shattered.

 

“I’ll talk to Ian; he’ll get them kicked out.”

 

“No! I don’t want to be a bother!” Roger’s eyes were huge. “And I don’t want to bother you.”

 

God, Roger had been coming to him for protection and here he was being annoyed at him for it. Brian felt shame burn in his stomach and reached a hand out for Roger, frowning when he didn’t take it.

 

“You don’t…I didn’t realize that was how you felt,” Brian sighed. “And maybe I should have communicated my feelings better too. Will you come back to bed?”

 

There was a moment when Roger looked like he was going to but he shook his head. “I’d rather…sleep down here.”

 

He wanted to argue, to say that he didn’t have to sleep on the floor like a dog, but Brian knew he couldn’t force him. Instead he handed over a few pillows and the fluffy comforter, leaving him with a thin sheet.

 

“I’m sorry Roger,” he whispered as he lay back down.

 

“I know,” Roger sighed. “I just didn’t think it would be this hard.”

 

Tears burned in Brian’s eyes for a moment. He hated feeling like he was screwing ever little thing up. He hated feeling like they were taking two steps backwards for every step forward. It hurt but Brian didn’t know what he was doing. He didn’t know how to fix things or make them better.

 

“Roger?” He said softly and got a hum in response. “You’re the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning and the last thing I think about before I go to bed. I could never get tired of you.”

 

The angel didn’t respond but when Brian woke up the next morning, he was curled up in the bed next to him.

 

It would take little steps to help Roger. Some days would be better than others and all Brian could do was be there for him, even if he felt like nothing he did was helping. The little times when it seemed to make an impact were few and far between.

 

Well, the angry shouting from Ian as he fired the roadies on an ‘anonymous tip’ helped.

 

He would take what he could get.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger gains confidence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi lovlies! Thank you again for your kind reviews! 
> 
> I've gotten a few prompts for this story on tumblr and wanted to post them on here as well. 
> 
> Here's some bonding between Rog and Freddie: https://queenofallcorgis.tumblr.com/post/187065073366/your-story-about-angel-roger-was-so-well-written

Okay.

 

Okay.

 

He could do this.

 

He could.

 

After their conversation Roger had committed to getting out of his comfort zone and not hover around his friends. Brian had assured him that it was alright, but he knew this had to happen. If he wanted to be treated like a person then he needed to act like it. He needed to show others that he could do it. He needed to show himself that he could do it.

 

So, he lingered behind to tune his drums and tried his best not to watch Brian from across the stage. He seemed to be excited to talk to Hot and the Hoople’s guitarist, and Roger didn’t want to pull him away from that.

 

“Hey!” A man snapped; eyes narrowed. “Stop fucking with the drums!”

 

At first, Roger was shocked into silence. He wanted to duck his head and scurry back submissively but…he couldn’t do that.

 

“They’re out of tune,” he replied, and the man’s eyes narrowed. “Listen.” He hit the snare a few times and raised his eyebrows. The man let out a short grumble and shook his head.

 

“They were perfect.”

 

“No, they weren’t,” Roger stood up, crossing his arms over his chest. Their argument seemed to attract the attention of a few of the other roadies. One man laughed and walked over to them, eyes sparkling.

 

“Aren’t you listening Rich? He knows more than you,” the man sneered. “You’re just a drum tech, what do you know?”

 

The man, Rich, smirked at that and Roger felt a surge of anger. “Clearly you don’t know anything because the drums are out of tune. Maybe if you got your head out of your ass you could hear properly.”

 

The laughter died and the other man stepped closer. “Hold on now, you’re not a drummer. You don’t tell us what to do, you don’t have the right…you don’t have any rights. You’re here to be a pretty face and keep your betters entertained.”

 

Then he combed his fingers through Roger’s feathers. The man let out a squawk of surprise as Roger extended his wings and smacked him solidly across the face. “Don’t fucking touch me. I don’t want to have to clean your greasy fingerprints out of my feathers.”

 

“I’ll break your fucking neck,” the man snarled, and Roger just cocked his head, ignoring the anxiety swirling in his gut.

 

“I’m sure Mr. Foster will be thrilled if one of the roadies hurts a member of the opening band. Imagine if we had to postpone the show,” he tsked softly and the man’s jaw ticked. “I promise I won’t tell a soul that you can’t tune a drum.”

 

The man bristled but stomped away, leaving Roger to smile and continue tuning the drums. His body shook a bit from the adrenaline, but he was also filled with a thrill.

 

So, this was what it felt like to be human. He could actually speak his mind, stand up for himself, and not let others treat him however they wanted. If this was what being human was like, then he could get used to it.

 

He was still in a good mood when he clambered onto the tour bus after the show, adrenaline making his heart pound and his hands shake. It was still a rush to play in front of so many people and have them cheer for them. It was so powerful to be a part of something so amazing.

 

“Great show boys!” Freddie grinned, shining with sweat and breathing hard. “God, did you hear them cheering?”

 

John nodded enthusiastically, looking as wired as Roger felt. They collapsed onto the couches lining the back of the bus and Freddie rifled through the cabinets, holding up a bottle of whiskey victoriously. He poured one for himself and one for Brian and John.

 

“Can I have some?” Roger asked softly, making Freddie raise his eyebrows. The singer shrugged and handed a glass to him as well before plopping onto the couch as well, throwing his legs over John’s.

 

Roger looked down at the amber liquid in his hand and tried to ignore the nervousness he felt. Today was about being brave and he could do this. It burned when he drank it but it had a sweetness to it that he liked, prompting him to sip some more.

 

They chatted about the show and his glass got more and more empty, head growing fuzzier as well. It wasn’t like when Tim forced the bottle between his teeth. There wasn’t an underlying rush of panic and fear, just comfort.

 

“You okay Rog?” Brian asked softly, leaning in close and he nodded, surprised at how heavy his head felt. “You don’t have to drink it if you don’t want.”

 

“It’s good,” Roger sighed and Freddie huffed out a laugh. “I feel…warm? Like nothing could bother me, you know?”

 

“Oh I know,” John laughed.

 

“I could have used this earlier when the roadie tried to grab my wing,” he grinned, shaking his head.

 

“Wait, what?” The smile vanished off of Brian’s face.

 

“Yeah, I was tuning the drums and this guy started yelling at me but I just told him that he was stupid…well not those words…but I told him that they were _not tuned_ and then this other guy showed up and started making fun of me and tried to grab my wings but I told him to not touch me. He threw a fit but I didn’t back down, I told him to get his head out of his ass,” Roger felt like his tongue couldn’t stop as he rambled on and on.

 

“Really?” Freddie grinned, refilling his glass and downing it before getting a bit more. He tipped another pour into Roger’s empty glass. “Look at you, feisty Roger.”

 

“I don’t like him,” Roger sighed, slumping further down in his chair. “And I don’t want to be around people I don’t like. Do you think we could get him kicked out?”

 

“I guess we can try,” John laughed loudly, clinking his glass with Roger’s.

 

“Good…because I’m happy and…I like it,” Roger grinned, feeling tears burn in his eyes. “I’m so damn happy here with you guys. I didn’t know life could be like this and…I’m happy.”

 

Freddie’s breath hitched and tears started to trickle down his cheeks too. “I am so happy too. Thank you all for making my dream come true.”

 

“Why are you crying?” Roger asked but he realized he was crying too.

 

“I don’t knoooow,” Freddie gasped out and then sobbed harder. The glass was plucked from Roger’s hand and he saw John pat at Freddie’s hand and hush him.

 

“Come on now love, let’s get you some sleep,” there was a bit of laughter in Brian’s voice as he helped him up. The guitarist barely managed to avoid getting hit by a wayward wing and started walking him towards the bunks.

 

Roger let out a whimper and wrapped his arms around Brian’s neck. “You mean everything to me Brian. Honestly, you have such beautiful eyes, such…such poofy lovely hair, and you have the most beautiful smile in the world.”

 

He pressed a sloppy kiss to Brian’s lips, smiling at his flushed cheeks when he pulled back. Freddie let out another sob, mumbling about how beautiful they both were. He let out a squeak as Brian hefted him up into the top bunk and crawled in after him, pressing close in the narrow space.

 

“Next time you get into a fight, let me know,” Brian kissed his forehead.

 

“I…I can take care of myself,” Roger half slurred, eyes sliding closed.

 

“I know, I want to watch,” Brian laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why but I see Roger and Freddie as being weepy drunks, especially if they spur each other on haha!.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so honored that the incredibly talented honeypan created some truly beautiful art for this story!! It's so amazing and exactly how I pictured Roger!
> 
> Check it out here and leave some kind words, they deserve it! https://archiveofourown.org/works/20437745/chapters/48487439

Brian was so nervous that he had to grip his mug tightly so his hands wouldn’t shake. They were meeting with Mr. Gregory Little, an incredibly successful and well-known music reporter for Rolling Stone. This interview would be the thing that made Queen a household name.

 

He wore an expensive suit and his glasses were probably worth more than Brian’s car. The smile he gave them was relaxed and charming as he ordered a coffee for himself.

 

“So, John Reid told me you were something special,” Little said and pulled out a notebook and fountain pen. “Before we get started let me just get your names written down so I can make sure everything is spelled right.”

 

He nodded at Freddie who cleared his throat. “Freddie Mercury, like the planet I suppose.”

 

“Your god given name is Mercury?” Little raised his eyebrows.

 

“I gave it to myself so…if you want to call it my god given name I won’t argue,” Freddie said brightly and John laughed, shaking his head. Little looked amused and continued with getting more John and Brian’s name down.

 

“Great, and for my first question I-“

 

“Roger Taylor,” Roger scooted a bit forward in his chair, making the man pause. “Do you need me to spell it?”

 

Little just started at him before glancing to Freddie. “I wasn’t going to say anything but if your pet continues to interrupt then I’m going to have to ask it to leave. I’m also a bit uncomfortable with it in a chair, I would rather it be on a kneeling pillow…it’s proper, you know.”

 

Their singer blinked in surprise. “Roger is our drummer and part of our band.”

 

“Still…you wouldn’t let a dog sit at the table,” Little shrugged and let his eyes flick from the chair Roger was sitting in to the floor next to him.

 

It was a terrible, horrible thing to say. Brian wanted to spit curses and storm out, but he couldn’t. This was the Rolling Stone. A negative review from the would end Queen before they were really even able to do what they were meant to do. He knew from the set in Roger’s shoulders that he understood and tried his best not to look down as Roger slid from the chair to kneel at their feet.

 

“Obedient thing, isn’t he?” Little beamed at them. “Alright, let’s get started.”

 

The questions were bland and boring, just asking about their schedule and inspiration. The whole time he avoided looking down at Roger, brushing off any mention of the angel and refusing to ask about him.

 

“We actually write songs together. Roger is a fantastic songwr-“

 

“No offense Mr. May but let’s not talk about him,” Little waved his hand dismissively. “Readers don’t want to hear about how smart or talented he is, that’s boring. I’ll make sure a few pictures of him get put in though.”

 

Brian’s nails bit into his palm.

 

“He is just lovely though,” he reached down to take Roger’s chin and tilted his face up to get a better look at him. “Where’d you get him? Are there any fledglings from his breeding line?”

 

“I…don’t know…”

 

“Shame, the breeder knew what they were doing,” Little laughed, capping his pen. “Bet the mother was a looker. Know if she’s still around? I’d love to get one just like it.”

 

“His mother was murdered because she couldn’t have children anymore,” John’s voice was icy, and Brian saw Roger’s hand snake under the table and squeeze his ankle in warning.

 

“That wouldn’t be so bad, imagine how great it would be to not be nagged constantly by your mother,” Little chuckled. “I know I was thrilled when I left home, got to leave that stupid little game of control she liked to play. Christ, mothers are a pain in the ass you know?”

 

Brian didn’t respond, instead watching how perfectly still Roger had gone.

 

“I mean, she calls and nags, nags, nags, nags,” Little rolled his eyes. “Hell, I knocked up my wife just so they both would have something to focus on other than me.”

 

“Are we done here?” John interrupted. “We just have a lot of practicing to do.”

 

“Of course,” Little stood and held out a hand. “I’m looking forward to seeing the show tonight. You should expect to see the article out in a week or so.”

 

He smiled and took hold of Roger’s chin again, stroking his jawline a bit. “I will say you boys are smart, no need to hope for cute groupies when you have a sure thing here. You wouldn’t consider letting me borrow him for a night?”

 

“No,” Brian ground out. He saw the way Roger’s shoulders relaxed and he grimaced at the thought that for even a split second Roger would think they would agree.

 

“You’ll change your mind one day. The music business is hard to maneuver, and you need friends…there’s nothing wrong with helping yourself by using what you have,” he pet at Roger’s hair. “Just think about it, playing on the biggest stages in the world, getting on television programs, being in the biggest magazine and it would be so easy with such a lovely bargaining chip.”

 

“It’s a price we would never be willing to pay,” John spat, prompting Freddie to nod.

 

“I’m sure when you get big and famous you’ll have a few each,” Little laughed. “Then you might be less greedy.”

 

Roger refused to move as Little shook their hands and left the café, whistling as he went. His wings drooped when the reporter walked out the door and he bowed his head slightly.

 

“Can we go home?” He whispered then winced. “Or…the bus or the hotel or whatever? I just want to go.”

 

He trembled slightly as they walked the short distance from the café to the hotel, silent for the entire trip to their room. It made Brian’s chest ache and his stomach twist. Just an hour ago they had been so excited to have their first big interview and it had gone terribly.

 

“You wouldn’t buy another angel, right?” He asked when they entered the room. “You wouldn’t…just give me to Ray or someone else and get a younger…less broken angel.”

 

“Fuck Roger, never!” Freddie blurted and the others voiced their agreement. “I swear, even if we have all the money in the world, we would never own someone. We would never _pimp_ you out or make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

 

Roger sighed and nodded, rubbing his fingers through his hair. “I…I know…I just needed to hear it.”

 

Taking a deep breath, Brian stepped forward and held his arms out a bit. Roger practically threw himself into the hug and relaxed into him. They just held each other for a good, long moment and Brian squeezed his eyes tight. He tried to show Roger how he felt just through holding him as tightly as he could.

 

_I want you to be safe._

_I want you to be happy._

_I would never treat you like you didn’t matter._

_I love you._

They spent the rest of the evening getting ready for their show, a strange feeling hovering over them. As usual the show went perfectly but Brian couldn’t help but think about Little sitting in the audience watching them.

 

“Are you alright?” He whispered into Roger’s ear as they walked off the stage.

 

“Fine,” Roger gave him a wan smile. “I’m just…I have a song I think I want to write.”

 

“Really?” Brian raised his eyebrows.

 

“Yeah…I’ll show you when I’m done.”

 

Apparently, he was done at four in the morning. Brian woke up to a notebook smacking him firmly in the chest and blue eyes staring down at him. It seemed like Roger didn’t get much sleep but his eyes had a brightness to them.

 

“Read it,” he hissed, pushing the notebook harder into his chest.

 

Brian flicked on the bedside table light, ignoring the grumbling from John and sat up. At first, he was in awe a bit of just how Roger had written it. His handwriting was scratchy and there were many spelling mistakes but he had just started learning how to read and write, that in itself was impressive as hell.

 

_Mamas gat a problm_

_She dont no wat to sa_

_Hr littl babee boy_

_Haz jst left hom toda_

_Shes gat too be the losr in the end_

_Shes gat too be the losr in the end_

_Misuz her and youl los her as a frend_

_Shes ma on wom you can alwas depnd_

“The loser in the end?” Brian asked, glancing up.

 

“That…that asshole can say whatever he wants about me, but I don’t like him talking about my mother,” Roger’s eyes flashed. “He treats his mother like a nuisance, and he doesn’t realize that some people never got to even know theirs.”

 

Brian nodded and felt his heart tighten as he read on.

 

“I didn’t get to say goodbye to her,” Roger whispered. “They pulled me out of the room we were in…the room that we weren’t allowed to leave, and she screamed. She begged them for one more day and they hit her. I know I wasn’t the first child she lost and I can’t imagine the pain she suffered. Hell…she was raped over and over, forced to carry a child, cared for a child and then lost it only for it to happen all over again. By all rights she should have despised me but she loved me…she always made sure that I knew that.”

 

“Rog-“

 

“And that asshole hated his mother for worrying about him. That’s not right,” the angel ranted.

 

Brian silenced him with a quick kiss and smiled before throwing his pillow at the bed Freddie and John were sharing. “Oi! Wake up!”

 

“What the hell Bri?” John mumbled as Freddie groaned into his pillow.

 

“Roger wrote a song, it’s good,” that got their attention and Freddie blinked up at him. “Listen.”

 

The angel blushed, seemingly shy now. “I mean…I have an idea of what I want it to sound like but I don’t know how to write for a guitar or bass or piano or whatever…”

 

“And that’s why we work as a band, we can help with that,” John rubbed his eyes, still looking half asleep but more aware. “Sing it for us.”

 

Roger hesitated, took his notebook, and cleared his throat. Then he started singing, soft and gentle. “She washed and fed and clothed and cared for nearly twenty years. And all she gets is goodbye ma. And the nighttime’s for her tears.”

 

As he sang Freddie sat up straight, eyes widening.

 

The angel seemed to gain confidence and his voice got a bit more powerful. “She’s got to be the loser in the end. She’s got to be the loser in the end. Misuse her and you’ll lose her as a friend. She’s ma on whom you can always depend.”

 

His voice faded at that and he shrugged, blush bright on his cheeks. “I’m thinking that this could be a good part for a guitar solo…I don’t know.”

 

“What the fuck Roger?” Freddie snapped, startling the rest of them. “What the actual fuck? You could sing like _that_ and you never told us?”

 

“What?”

 

“You have a stunning voice, a true rock and roll voice! Why the fuck am I the only one singing if you can sound like that?” He waved his hands, smiling as John nodded. “This song is good, really really good. We’ll have to put your song on our next album and I want you to sing it.”

 

Roger blinked in surprise. “Oh…oh no I couldn’t.”

 

“You have a gift Roger and you need to share it with the world. Fuckers like Little or Ray can’t say we’re keeping you around because you’re a pretty face when you sing like that. People will start seeing you as the artist that you are,” Freddie grinned, all tiredness gone.

 

“You really think it’s good?” Roger’s voice was small.

 

“Amazing,” Brian said gently, grinning at how the angel’s eyes lit up. “You’re amazing Roger.”

 

There was still that familiar doubt in Roger’s eyes, the self consciousness that lingered as a habit. One day he hoped that Roger would begin to see his own talent and gain the confidence he should always have.

 

One day he hoped that Roger would see himself the way they all did.

 

He would see himself as the beautiful, kind, talented, person that Brian was quickly falling in love with.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look! Another chapter!
> 
> Also, this one is like 95% smut so...enjoy
> 
> I've also written a one shot from this universe which you can read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20498489

Kissing Brian was his favorite thing.

 

He had hoped that as soon as they finished, they would be able to take a slight break. Instead they were only given two months from their last show to the first show of their next tour _and_ they had to make a whole album in that time. Every spare moment was spent in the studio recording, leaving very little time to do anything else.

 

However, Roger liked to think that he used their limited free time smartly.

 

Most of it was spent curled up in bed.

 

Kissing was never something Roger enjoyed. In fact, he had hardly ever been kissed before Brian. It was something harsh and possessive, a reminder of what he was more than anything else. With Brian things were so, so different. Each kiss felt like a gift, something gentle and meant to be treasured.

 

He loved it.

 

He loved the way their lips brushed against each other’s. He loved the way Brian’s hands drifted across his body. He loved the way Brian would press his forehead against Roger’s, breathless.

 

“Wait,” Roger pushed at his chest and pulled his shirt over his head, smiling shyly as Brian scrambled to do the same. They clumsily stripped off their pants and Roger didn’t hesitate before he pulled off his briefs.

 

“Oh…I…” he saw that familiar doubt and felt a sudden rush of shame. Maybe it was that he hadn’t even felt shame when he had stripped off, falling into familiar patterns. A blush burned at his cheeks and he tugged at the sheets, covering his lap.

 

“I’m sorry, I just-“

 

“It’s okay,” Brian leaned forward to press their lips together, stroking his thumb along his jaw. “It’s fine. Is this moving too fast?”

 

“No!”

 

Brian laughed, letting his fingers drift down Roger’s throat. Then his face went serious, smile fading. “Roger, you need to promise me you’ll tell me if you need to stop, okay? I’ll listen. I’ll stop if you need me to. I’ll stop at any time, no matter what.”

 

It felt like his chest might burst, heart swelling with and overwhelming feeling he had never experienced before. “I promise. I just…tell me what to do and I’ll make you feel good.”

 

That was clearly the wrong thing to say.

 

Brian’s eyes went a bit sad and he looked down before sucking in a deep breath through his teeth. “I want you to feel good. That’s what I want you to do.”

 

Before Roger could ask anything else, they were kissing again. He was tense, nervous, unsure of what his role was.  He was used to being told exactly what to do, not thinking of his own pleasure at all. He wasn’t used to lying back and being touched like this.

 

But God, it felt good.

 

He let out a yelp as Brian grabbed his hips and pulled him to the edge of the bed. The guitarist chuckled, took his hands and pulled him into a sitting position before sliding to his knees on the floor. Instantly, panic shot through Roger. He started and shook his head down at Brian.

 

“No, no,” he stammered. “You don’t have to. I should-“

 

“Hey,” Brian leaned up a bit, stretching his neck to kiss him. “I want to, I’d enjoy it. If you really don’t want to that’s okay but I promise I want to do this for you.”

 

No one had ever thought about his pleasure before.

 

Part of the training process was learning how to ignore his own feelings. He didn’t think about pain or about the pleasure that sometimes, shamefully, crept up on him. This was far out of his comfort zone, something he had never experienced before.

 

“Oh!” Roger gasped, eyes going wide as soon as soft lips wrapped around the tip of his cock. His hands shot out, one hand grabbing Brian’s shoulder and the other weaving into his hair. He shivered as the warm heat sank further down and a rough moan tore from his throat.

 

“Oh, oh, oh,” he could hear his own getting higher and higher. Brian’s lips tightened a bit in a smile, and he felt him hold his hips down as they jerked. “Brian…Brian I…”

 

The lips pulled off and Brian’s fingers curled in a tight fist around his cock, stroking him quick. “Okay?”

 

“Mmhmm,” Roger leaned back a bit, holding himself up by bracing his hand on the bed. It was overwhelming. He whimpered and gasped, feeling like every part of his body was being wound tighter and tighter.

 

It was too much. The building pleasure reminded him of being in the training shelter, forced to touch himself before being electrocuted. He has always associated any pleasure with excruciating pain and it was torture waiting for that pain to start.

 

“Bri…Brian stop.”

 

And he did.

 

Part of Roger had been a bit worried that Brian wouldn’t stop. He was scared that, like every time before, he would be ignored.

 

But Brian pulled back and sat back on his heels, breathing hard and looking up at him worriedly. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

 

He shook his head sharply, trying to calm his breathing. “I’m…I’m okay. I was just…”

 

Brian reached a hand up to brush his hair away from his face. “You’re fine. Do you want to stop? We can stop if you want.”

 

But he didn’t want to stop. He wanted to know what it felt like, he wanted to see if he could. He wanted to prove to himself that he was capable of healing, that he wasn’t trapped forever.

 

“It’s okay, you can…you can keep going,” he whispered and Brian smiled up at him, eyes sparkling.

 

This time when he lowered his lips to Roger’s cock he kept his eyes locked on Roger’s. It was grounding and kept him from slipping back into his memories. He was here with someone who treated him with nothing but kindness and respect. He chose to do this, it was something they were sharing not something that was being taken from him.

 

“Brian,” he gasped out, body seizing up. “Please…let me…tell me I can.”

 

Brian’s brows furrowed a bit at that and he pulled off. “You don’t need my permission Rog, let go whenever you want.”

 

All it took was a few more long strokes and a particularly interesting twist of Brian’s tongue before he fell over the edge.

 

He felt his wings extend to their full wingspan and a cry ripped from his throat. He jerked and whimpered as pleasure crashed over him in overwhelming waves. Finally, it ended and Brian helped him lay down.

 

“You okay?” He asked softly, peppering Roger’s skin with kisses.

 

“I am soooooo okay,” his voice came out slurred and Brian laughed. “Now…now it’s your turn.”

 

“No, I’m fine,” Brian hushed him, blushing a bit at the curious look. “I mean…do you have any idea what you look like when you cum? Shit, I’ll never have to look at porn again. You’re a damn vision.”

 

Roger giggled, still feeling a bit high. “Well…I’ve never orgasmed before...”

 

Brian’s smile faltered and he kissed Roger’s forehead. “Well, I’m happy to give you as many orgasms as you want. You deserve to feel good.”

 

“I’ll hold you to it,” Roger pulled him into another deep kiss. He pressed their foreheads together. “Thank you for that.”

 

“Believe me, it wasn’t much of a hardship,” Brian teased and leaned back. Something white caught Roger’s attention and he reached up to pluck a small downy feather out of Brian’s hair. Brian laughed brightly, eyes sparkling. “I’m not surprised. Your wings went _wild_ when you came.”

 

Roger looked down to see several of the same feathers scattered across the bed. He blushed bright red, “I didn’t do that.”

 

“Yes, you did,” Brian teased. “Your wings spread out and poof! Feathers everywhere.”

 

“Shut up!” Roger laughed, shrieking when Brian used the feather to tickle down his chest.

 

There was a loud knock on the wall and Freddie’s shout was shrill. “Stop fucking so loudly! Some of us want to sleep for the three hours we have off!”

 

Brian rolled his eyes and pulled Roger into his arms, letting their naked skin press together. The angel stared up at the other man, leaning into the soft petting hands. This was where he was meant to be. This was what it felt like to live without fear or pain.

 

“I love you,” he whispered, closing his eyes as Brian’s fingers stopped their lazy circles. “I really do. I love you for helping me, for caring for me, for being patient with me. I love you for teaching me what love is.”

 

There was a beat of silence an he opened his eyes to see Brian’s eyes glassy with tears. “I love you too Roger, more than I ever thought was possible.”

 

Brian had said he would know love when he felt it.

 

He knew it now.


	24. Chapter 24

“Christ, look at it,” an oily voice made Roger grit his teeth. “It’s adorable. See? It thinks it can set the drum kit up all on its own.”

 

_Because you asses won’t do it for me._

“It does look rather pretty on its knees though,” they had gotten a bit bolder ever since Roger snapped back at them the last time. It was clear that they were still sore over it and were determined to make Roger’s life a living hell. “Think anyone would notice if I whipped my cock out and fucked him behind the drums?”

 

“Do that and I’ll bite it off,” Roger snarled, glaring over his shoulder.

 

The man’s eyes narrowed, and Roger felt the fight swell up in him. He was so tired of this, so tired of constantly being treated like he wasn’t there. The roadie took a few steps forward and Roger got to his feet, pulling himself up to his full height.

 

“What did you just say?”

 

“I said,” Roger lowered his voice and spoke slowly. “That if you put that sad little excuse for a dick anywhere near my mouth, I’ll bite it off.”

 

This time the roadie didn’t back down. He didn’t just slink away. He put a hand on the center of Roger’s chest and pushed him lightly. Roger bristled at that, wings flaring slightly, and shoved back. A small crowd had gathered, watching eagerly as the two stared each other down.

 

“Your damn job is to set up the drums for the drummer. I am the drummer and you aren’t doing shit. You’re sitting around smoking and talking about the girls you harass at the bar afterwards,” with each word the man’s face darkened and his hands curled into fists.

 

Then, the hand twisted into his t-shirt and Roger had a sudden panicked thought of _Oh shit, I went too far._ The man’s hand went back to throw a punch and Roger just reacted, slamming his head forward to crash his forehead into the man’s nose. There was a satisfying crunch and the man let out a yelp of pain.

 

He threw his fists and even used his wings to shove back some of the other men who tried to separate them. Red, hot rage overwhelmed him and for a moment all he wanted to do was _hurt_. How dare these people think they could just treat him that way? How dare they think it was acceptable to talk to him or touch him like he didn’t matter?

 

Strong arms wrapped around his waist, but he continued to kick and flap his wings, snarling curses at the man who was quickly being led off the stage.

 

“For fuck’s sake Roger! Stop!” Freddie shouted into his ear and he stopped fighting, sagging in his arms. “Jesus Christ, what is your problem?”

 

He kept his arms around Roger’s waist and hurried him to the dressing room, ignoring how the angel still shook with rage. When he burst through the door they were met with the wide eyes of John and Brian.

 

“What the fuck happened to you?” Brian gasped and Roger finally got a look at himself in the mirror.

 

He already had a bruise spreading from above his eyebrow drown his temple, blood smeared on it from the man’s broken nose. His hair was a mess and a few feathers had been ripped out. Roger couldn’t help the wild grin that spread across his face and he let out a breathless laugh.

 

“What the fuck happened?” Brian snapped again.

 

“I beat the crap out of someone,” Roger laughed, clapping his hands. He was sure he looked completely insane but couldn’t help the giddiness rushing through him.

 

“I looked up and he was pounding this roadie into the ground,” Freddie pulled a beer out of the fridge, forced Roger to sit on the couch and placing the cold bottle to the bruise. “Looked like he was going to kill him.”

 

Roger winced at the cold. “Well, he was saying that he wanted to fuck me behind the drums and then he got insulted when I said he had a tiny dick.”

 

“What?”

 

“I was just fighting back. Would you be okay with someone talking about you like you weren’t even there?” He glanced up at his friends and watched Brian sputter angrily. “I got angry and I beat him up. He deserved it.”

 

John pushed past a stunned Freddie, reached into his back pocket and pulled out his cigarettes. He lit one and handed it to Roger, nodding. “You’re shaking. Calm your nerves a bit.”

 

The smoke burned as he sucked it into his lungs, but it was a good burn. It helped him focus on something other than the comedown from his adrenaline rush. Brian seemed at a loss for words, letting out frustrated noises and huffs.

 

“You’re pissed?” He pulled the bottle away from his bruise for a moment.

 

“I’m pissed at him,” Brian ground out. “But I’m pissed that you fought him too. You could have gotten really hurt..and you had ever right to fight for yourself. I would have beaten him down too if he was talking about me like that but…but…but Rog you can’t.”

 

Roger’s jaw tightened, knowing exactly why he couldn’t. He placed the cigarette between his lips again and inhaled, all while ignoring the disapproving look from Brian. When he breathed out the smoke it felt like some of the stress went with it.

 

He continued smoking his cigarette and Freddie opened a beer, draining half of it in one go. The frenzied panic drained away an they just sat in silence. Roger opened and closed his fist, wincing at the torn skin. There was a slight sense of pride in what he had just done. Surely, they would think twice about messing with him again.

 

A knock on the door made them all tense up and Paul peeked in, smiling apologetically.

 

“Sorry boys, just heard about Roger’s little outburst and got off the phone with Ray,” Roger bristled at that, but Paul didn’t even look at him.

 

“Did you hear that the roadies have been harassing him and refusing to set up the drums like he wants?” Brian snarled and Paul sighed. “I’m sure you didn’t even though we have been complaining about the same damn thing for months.”

 

Paul pinched at the bridge of his nose. “Well, they’re saying that they feel unsafe. They don’t feel comfortable working with something that can snap at any time.”

 

“Not any time, only when they don’t do their job and threaten to fuck me,” Roger spat.

 

“Yeah…obviously Ray is upset so a compromise has been suggested. They will come back and help if Roger wears this,” he held up a thin silver band and Roger went perfectly still, blood running cold. He knew that band. He still felt phantom spasms run through him.

 

“What is that?’ John asked softly.

 

“A shock collar,” Roger whispered, and Brian jerked where he stood.

 

“Absolutely not!” He shouted, echoed by an equally angry Freddie. “That’s cruel! If they don’t want to work with him then fuck them! We can find someone else!”

 

“We go on stage in four hours. The Rainbow is not exactly something we can reschedule, and it will be recorded. Ray’s already spent a lot of money on it and he won’t be happy if we cancel,” Paul gave them a pitying look. “He can just wear it to appease the guys. I’ll hold onto the remote and keep it safe. It’ll just be for show.”

 

The hesitation made Roger’s heart warm. They didn’t want to force this on him, but they didn’t want to lose the opportunity that was in front of them. With a deep breath, he held out his hand.

 

“Roger, you don’t have to-“

 

“I know,” Paul placed the collar in his hand and he secured it around his neck, wincing at the cold prongs biting into the back of his neck. “But it’s just for show. Paul wouldn’t press it.”

 

“Of course not!” Their manager beamed. “But it’ll make them feel a bit more comfortable. I’ll go give Ray a call, he was a bit upset and I want to assure him that you all cooperated.”

 

“Cooperated,” Brian grumbled sarcastically as Roger finished his cigarette, snuffing it out in the ash tray. Paul gave him a long look, nose scrunching up a bit in distaste.

 

“I’m not sure if Ray would like you smoking,” he said slowly. “It clashes with the good angel aesthetic you had going. You wouldn’t want that.”

 

Paul gave them a too bright grin and walked out, closing the door behind him. As soon as the door clicked shut John handed Roger another cigarette, eyes narrowed and angry. He couldn’t help the smile that quirked at his lips and accepted the cigarette with trembling fingers.

 

Of course, the roadies had messed up the drums. They were all various heights, not balanced or tuned, and spread out slightly. The drums were out of tune even though he tried desperately to fix them throughout the show, ignoring the men smirking at him from the sides of the stage.

 

The crowd seemed excited though. They cheered and sang along with some of the songs. It wasn’t hard with the others giving such an outstanding performance. Brian looked spectacular in his billowing sleeves, John looked so focused it was amazing, and Freddie lit up the stage. They were amazing, despite the drums sounding off.

 

Then the camera man mimicked wings and Roger grit his teeth, eyes narrowing. They wanted him to flap his wings like a circus animal? Good fucking luck. He pulled them in even tighter to his body. He drummed harder than ever, putting ever ounce of anger into hitting the drums.

 

None of it was fair.

 

Was this how life was going to be?

 

When it was just them he had his friends around him, supporting him and protecting him. Now, they had many more people around them and no one else seemed to feel like he was worth a damn. It was simply exhausting to be treated like nothing for so long.

 

He was angry. He was sad. He was frustrated. He was tired.

 

He was done with being treated like an animal.

 

Brian’s guitar screamed out it’s final note and Roger snapped. He stood and kicked the bass drum off the riser. The cheers from the crowd drowned out the sounds of the cymbals and drums crashing to the ground. Roger turned, flaring his wings out to the annoyance of the camera man, and stormed off stage.

 

“Rog,” Brian called out but he ignored him, too focused on the rage flooding through him. His wings were extended, forcing people to move out of his way and he finally made it to the dressing room. He turned to slam the door shut but it was stopped by a foot in the doorframe.

 

“Go the fuck away!” He shouted, nearly spitting in Paul’s face as the other man pushed his way in. “Get out!”

 

“You just wrecked a five hundred pound drum kit,” Paul’s voice was uncharacteristically icy and he snarled back. “How do you intend to pay for that?”

 

“I don’t.”

 

Paul’s eyes narrowed further. “This kind of behavior is unacceptable. First you punch an employee and now you destroy your instrument?”

 

“My behavior is unacceptable? I’m not a fucking child,” Roger felt himself tremble. “I am constantly being harassed and threatened. Of course, I’m angry, what person wouldn’t be?”

 

“But you’re not a person, are you?” He froze, mouth dropping open at Paul’s too calm words. “Are you?”

 

Roger didn’t answer, shaking hands curling into tight fists.

 

“And maybe if your masters treated you like what you were you wouldn’t be as confused,” Paul cocked his head to the side. “You wouldn’t make the mistake of thinking you were _human._ It’s really the poor training that led to this.”

 

“They aren’t my-“

 

But then his voice cut off as electricity raced through him. Roger could feel his wings expand and the feathers quiver as his back arched slightly. The electricity faded just as fast and he practically collapsed onto his knees, gasping for breath.

 

Tears in his eyes, he looked up to see Paul holding the remote for the collar.

 

“You said you wouldn’t.”

 

“You need limits,” Paul said slowly. “It’s too much for your little brain to handle. I’m doing this for you and I’m doing this for the others who are too soft to deal with you. You should be thanking me. Say it, say thank you sir.”

 

“Fuck you,” Roger spat but then jerked violently as another shock ran through his body.

 

Paul tsked softly. “Thank you sir, that’s all you have to say.”

 

His muscles jumped with the aftershocks and he swallowed. “T-thank you…sir.” He quickly tacked on the sir when Paul’s thumb drifted to the remote.

 

“Good boy, there’s hope for you yet,” Paul patted his head and Roger cringed away. “We’ll work on it…hopefully the others won’t be too angry at you for costing them so much money. Hell, they’ll probably thank me too for finally trying to train you up right.”

 

Roger clenched his jaw and glared down at the floor. There was another pat to the head and Paul left him alone, closing the door. A few tears trickled down his cheeks and he pulled his knees to his chest, wrapping his wings around his body.

 

“There you are!” The door swung open and he heard Freddie’s exasperated voice. “Didn’t come in here to smash up the room? Hundreds of pounds Roger! We don’t have hundreds of pounds!”

 

“Rog?” He recognized Brian’s voice then as the guitarist knelt by his side. “Are you okay?”

 

“I’m sorry!” Roger just about wailed, throwing himself at Brian. He felt the billowy sleeves wrap around him and sobbed harder. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

 

“Hush now,” Brian whispered into his ear, rocking him slightly. “We’ll get it figured out. Don’t worry.”

 

Roger winced as Brian’s gentle hands brushed over the slightly burnt skin at the back of his neck but he held his tongue. Freddie was still furious about the money and he had dug them further into the hole they were already drowning in.

 

What Paul did wasn’t that terrible.

 

He had been acting up…Paul wouldn’t have done anything if he hadn’t done what he did.

 

He deserved it and they were disappointed enough.

 

He would keep his mouth shut.


	25. Chapter 25

John knew something was strange as soon as they filed onto the plane.

 

 They all gave the members of Mott the Hoople an awkward smile as they passed them in first class on their way to coach. He shouldn’t be too upset, they were going to a tour in America after all, but he knew Ray could have afforded to put them in first class as well.

 

The seats in coach were cramped and barely padded, not exactly how John wanted to spend hours and hours and hours. He slid into his seat by the window and scooted over a bit so Roger could clamber in. The angel’s eyes lingered on Brian right in front of him and John felt his stomach twist a bit.

 

He knew Roger would rather sit next to Brian. Even though they had all gotten rather close he was still most comfortable with the guitarist. However, the seats were small and it would be nearly impossible to cram Brian’s long legs into them along with Roger’s wings.

 

So, John was determined to make him as comfortable as possible.

 

It was going to be a bit of a difficult challenge though. Roger was a bit twitchy, pace pale and eyes flicking around their cramped quarters. He squirmed in his seat, unable to fit his wings comfortably behind him.

 

“You okay?” He asked softly and Roger jumped.

 

“Fine. Totally fine. Absolutely fine,” he rambled for a bit before letting out a long breath that ended in a whine. “But I’ve never been on a plane.”

 

“Oh,” John blinked.

 

“We were supposed to go to Australia…remember? And Freddie got sick…I was super relieved,” a blush made Roger’s cheeks burn. “And this is going to be a long, long flight.”

 

“It’ll be great! I’ve got snacks, books, or we can just nap until we are surrounded by the seas of golden wheat or whatever it’s like in America,”

 

A small smile graced Roger’s face and he accepted the little bag of chocolate candies. They settled down as the rest of the plane filled up. John tried his best to keep Roger engaged in the conversation so that he didn’t notice the stares from the other passengers.

 

The plane made a small lurch as it started pulling out towards the runway and Roger’s hand scrambled on the arm rest. John quickly put his hand out, palm up and weaved his fingers through with Roger’s trembling ones.

 

“Is that normal?” Roger hissed and John felt his lips quirk in a smile.

 

“Yeah, the plane is going to speed up a bit and then lift off,” John explained but Roger still jumped when the plane started picking up speed. He let the angel squeeze his hand as tight as he could, trying to school his face into blankness so he didn’t wince.

 

The plane shuddered into the sky, dipping every so often and finally stabilizing. Roger let out a long, nervous breath when the plane settled and turned his pale face towards John. “If that is what flying is like then I am incredibly glad I can’t fly.”

 

John laughed and leaned down to rummage through his backpack. “Okay, I’ve got some snacks and books. We have a long flight ahead of us so get comfortable.”

 

“Fat chance.”

 

John cracked open his book and placed the open bag of pretzels between them. Our of the corner of his eye he saw Roger continue to shift uncomfortably in his seat until he folded himself into a strange sitting position.

 

“What are you reading?” He asked.

 

“’And Then There Were None’ by Agatha Christie. It’s one of my favorites,” John showed him the cover and smiled when Roger looked interested. “It’s a murder mystery.”

 

“Hmm…sounds interesting,” he was a terrible actor.

 

“Here, let me read it,” John settled down and flipped to the first page. “In the corner of a first-class smoking carriage, Mr. Justice Wargrave, lately retired from the bench, puffed t a cigar and ran an interested eye through the political news in the Times.”

 

He read the book, soft and quiet, but Roger seemed fascinated by the story. His eyebrows would jump at every twist and he listened very carefully. By the time Mrs. Rogers’ was murdered the drink cart started rattling down the aisle.

 

“Excuse me,” the stewardess’s nasally voice called out, overly made up eyes narrowed in frustration. “Sir, your pet’s wings are blocking the aisle.”

 

“Oh!” Roger turned around, cheeks blushing pink. He turned around a bit so his wings were cramped up in the seat behind him. “Sorry…I didn’t have enough room.”

 

“Don’t do it again. It’s a safety violation,” she snapped but the words were directed at John. “That’s why those things are normally in cargo.”

 

“I’ll take a gingerale,” John locked eyes with her, unwilling to let her win. “Rog?”

 

“Um…a coke please.”

 

She handed over a gingerale and then turned to the passengers on the other side. John frowned deeply and leaned over Roger to tap his fingers on the drink cart. “The coke?”

 

She made a face but practically thrust the coke towards John, rolling his eyes. Roger glared at the back of her head before huffing and turning back to John. “So, the husband did it right?”

 

“You’ll have to wait and see,” John teased and continued reading.

 

After another hour John noticed that Roger’s squirming was getting worse. His face was pinched in discomfort and his breaths came out in harsh little pants.

 

“You okay?” John paused midsentence.

 

“Yeah…it’s just that I’m trying to keep my wings pulled in so they aren’t in the aisle but they’re starting to cramp up,” he winced again and rolled his shoulders back.

 

John pulled the armrest between them up and motioned for Roger to move a bit closer to him. After half a moment of hesitation Roger scooted a little closer and pressed himself against John. In this position he was able to stretch his wings out a bit more and visibly relaxed.

 

“Better?”

 

Roger hummed and nodded. “Yeah, keep reading.”

 

So, John continued on reading about the violent demise of the general. The sky darkened outside and the cabin lights flickered on. The stewardess made another trip down the aisle but ignored them both entirely. Roger stuck his tongue out after her, making John giggle.

 

“Sorry to say John, I think you ruined your chance with her,” Roger whispered conspiratorially.

 

“Damn, and here I was thinking she was my soulmate,” he sighed, putting a hand to his forehead dramatically. “I’ll just have to die alone now.”

 

“Naw, you got Freddie,” Roger shot him a sly look and grinned when John startled. “I knew it, I so knew it.”

 

John stared at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish as he tried desperately to think of what to say. Finally, he just sighed. “How did you know?”

 

“I spent too many years just sitting around and being hyperaware of my surroundings. I notice things,” Roger shrugged. “Plus, you’re not exactly being subtle. Neither is he.”

 

“Really?” John’s curiosity was peaked.

 

“Yeah,” the angel nodded and stretched out on the chair a little bit more so he was practically laying in John’s lap. “And Brian and I…we can’t be together you know…not like you can be with Freddie. If you’re with him, no one will think you’re his pet or toy. People will think you’re in love.”

 

John felt a stab of sadness at that and leaned forward to press a kiss to the top of Roger’s head. “If anyone looks at you and Bri they would know you were in love.”

 

“Thanks Deaks,” Roger yawned. “Can you keep reading?”

 

“A bit more. Then we can take a rest and hopefully wake up in America,” John opened the book again. “And maybe Brian will have shaken this cold and won’t be such a whiney baby about it.”


	26. Chapter 26

“There’s a crowd!” John cried out and Freddie nearly cracked his head on the cabinet door in his haste to look up. Sure enough, there was a small gathering of people in front of the unloading dock holding signs.

 

His heart jumped in his throat and for a moment he felt dizzy. The American tour had been going so well, was it going well enough to actually have gotten fans yet? Were these people really so in love with them that they arrived to the venue hours early?

 

The four of them pressed against the window, watching as the signs got closer and closer. As soon as they came into sight, Freddie felt everything inside of him twist and he felt sick.

 

_We don’t want you here!_

_Species mixing is a moral sin!_

_We listen to human music!_

_Whores don’t get names!_

It wasn’t a group of fans. It was a protest group protesting _them._

“What do they say?” Roger bounced a bit on his feet, eyes narrowing to try and see the signs. For once Freddie was pretty grateful for Roger’s obvious near sightedness. Thank God they hadn’t been able to afford to get him glasses yet.

 

“Um…they…” John looked a bit pale and the smile fell from Roger’s face.

 

“Are they protesting? They’re protesting us?” He huffed, squinting again before realization flickered across his face. “They’re…protesting me?”

 

“They’re a bunch of small-minded pricks,” Brian’s voice came out slow and dangerous. His eyes were narrowed, and his hands gripped the side of the couch. “Fuck them. Fuck their opinions.”

 

“That’s right,” Freddie nodded vigorously.  “Fuck them. The opinions of lesser men never mattered anyway. This show is sold out.”

 

Roger nodded slightly but he didn’t look any more reassured. The bus stopped a few yards away from the crowd and they could hear their angry chanting.

 

“Angels and humans aren’t the same, go back from where you came!”

 

The bus door hissed open and Roger winced as the chanted got louder. The bus driver stepped off and Paul made a face as he walked towards the door. “Come on then.”

 

To his surprise, Roger followed quickly. Lately he seemed much more responsive to Paul’s commands, something Freddie was a bit relieved to see. The Irishman was only trying to help them and Roger’s attitude towards him wasn’t a help in the least. It was nice to see them all getting along.

 

They got off the bus, trying to ignore the jeering and shouting. The roadies were unloading the trucks and moving things inside. With a deep breath, Roger squared his shoulders and started walking towards the door. The rest of the bandmates followed closely, keeping the angel in their sights.

 

Of course, things went terribly wrong as soon as they got near the crowd.

 

A woman broke off from the crowd and ran at them, her face twisted into something dark and angry. She barreled herself into Roger’s side faster than any of them could react. Roger let out a sharp yelp and staggered as she started pulling out handfuls of feathers.

 

Brian managed to shove her off and John grabbed onto Roger’s arm, practically pulling him into the door. It slammed behind them, leaving them panting and exhausted. A few members of the security team burst in after them, mumbling to each other.

 

“Are those monsters gone?” Freddie snapped, resting a hand on Roger’s heaving back. One of the security members nodded but hurried after the others, leaving the four of them alone.

 

“Christ, you’re bleeding,” Brian gasped and Freddie finally looked down. Huge chunks of feathers were missing or torn, leaving dark blood to drip onto the concrete floor. Roger looked a bit pale, swaying on his feet a bit.

 

“Paul!” Freddie snapped and their manager scurried over. “Where are the dressing rooms? Roger’s hurt.”

 

Paul’s eyes widened at the sight of the blood. “Oh, you poor thing, let’s get you bandaged up.”

 

God, Roger must be badly hurt if he flinched away from Paul’s gentle touch. They got him down the hall and the angel practically fell onto the couch, wings outstretched so the dripping blood didn’t get on the seats.

 

“She tore some of my blood feathers,” he grit out, eyes squeezed shut. “Fucking bitch, damn the lot of them.”

 

“I know, I know,” Brian winced in sympathy as he looked carefully at the wing. “I’m going to have to pull them. It’s going to hurt like a bitch.”

 

“Oh, is it?” Roger bit out sarcastically.

 

Brian pulled a towel over and as carefully as he could, plucked one of the bleeding broken feathers. The wing spasmed and Roger groaned in agony. He moved quickly and effectively, shushing Roger softly when he whined in pain.

 

“Good thing your boyfriend studies up on birds, eh?” Paul quipped but they ignored him, Roger sagging a bit as Brian bandaged up the bleeding wounds.

 

“We need our own security,” Freddie said, and Paul nodded enthusiastically.

 

“Of course…just to warn you though…it will be an additional cost taken from your earnings,” he looked sympathetic.

 

“Of fucking course it is,” Brian snarled. “This can’t happen again. Understand?”

 

“I understand. I care about Roger’s safety as well,” Paul said, and Roger let out a huff of humorless laughter. “I just want to be honest with you. Do you think he can go on tonight?”

 

“I can play.”

 

Brian looked unconvinced. “Are you sure?”

 

“I am,” Roger’s mouth went tight when Paul reached into his pocket and pulled out the shock collar. Without another word he pulled on the collar and let his fingers brush against the cool metal. “I’m not going to let them win. I’m not going to let them scare me into not playing.”

 

“You’re injured, bleeding,” John said softly. “We can sit this one out and let you heal.”

 

“No. I’ll fucking bleed on the drums if I have to,” Roger shook his head, eyes bright with tears. “They don’t want me here? I’ll be more in their face than ever.”

 

And he was.

 

Freddie was actually impressed with the showman Roger suddenly portrayed himself as. He would pour beer on the drums so they splashed in the lights. He would stretch his wings out, uncaring that the feathers were missing in clumps. He winked and sang and flirted with the audience shamelessly.

 

Best of all, the audience ate it up.

 

Girls would scream when he got into his solos, shrieking even louder as he smirked at them. Freddie knew he must be in incredible pain, but you would never know just by looking at him. Instead, he saw a flirty, reckless drummer who he was sure would be well known across the world.

 

He deserved for people to know who he was.

 

He had earned that at least.


	27. Chapter 27

Roger _loved_ New York City.

 

They had arrived and he was already memorized by the lights and sounds. The city just glowed, something he had never quite experienced. The food was great, the music was fantastic and best of all…no one really looked at him like he didn’t belong. He still wasn’t being treated like a person, more like he didn’t exist, but it was better than being treated like an animal.

 

John managed to get them into a club where they danced to a decent enough band. A few of the humans wore fake angel wings, shimmying their shoulders to make them move. One of the women even came over and complimented Roger on his wings, asking him where he got them. She hadn’t quite gotten the humor when Roger replied with ‘my parents’.

 

Brian hadn’t felt well but he still sat next to Roger in bed, sharing a piece of New York cheesecake as they watched television. He didn’t even roll his eyes when Roger finished his second and part of the third piece.

 

Then Freddie introduced him to Broadway. They hadn’t been allowed to sit too near the stage, instead having to sit in the tiny section allowed for angels up in the balcony. The other angels there were clearly servants waiting on their masters and they blatantly stared at Freddie, confused why a master would want to sit in their section.

 

“Oh pish, making a big deal about nothing,” Freddie mumbled when the ticket seller asked him for the fifth time if he was sure he wanted to purchase those seats.

 

They had gone to see Candide and while Roger didn’t entirely understand the satire behind it, he enjoyed it immensely. The costumes and singing were fantastic and he found himself humming the songs under his breath almost constantly.

 

“I imagine you’re a bit like Cunegonde,” Roger teased as they stepped outside, laughing when Freddie pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Loving the finer things, dazzled by anything that sparkles!”

 

“’I have no strong objection to champagne, ha ha! My wardrobe is expensive as the devil, ha ha!’” Freddie pitched his voice high and warbly as he sang the part. “Perhaps that could inspire a song eh? There aren’t enough songs written about fancy French prostitutes.”

 

“I’m sure it’ll be your next hit,” Roger rolled his eyes.

 

“Our next hit darling,” Freddie hooked his arm through Roger’s, ignoring the glances from people on the street. “You enjoyed it then?”

 

“I did,” Roger grinned. “Although I don’t really understand the whole best of all possible worlds things.”

 

“Well, Voltaire wanted to mock the idea of optimism. There was this theory that because things were, they were there for the best reason. War? That’s because it can bring people, rich and poor, together to fight against a common enemy. The temptation of man? God did that because he wanted to have something to forgive. Everything that happens is God planning for the best of all worlds,” Freddie waved a hand in the air.

 

“Well, that’s stupid,” Roger frowned.

 

“Exactly! It was a theory that people lived by though! They lived in this bubble of denial,” Freddie nodded.

 

Roger huffed and rolled his eyes. “So, by that theory, angels were created to serve man? We suffer through all that stuff for what? To become better servants?”

 

“Like I said, it’s stupid,” Freddie shook his head.

 

It was a strange thought, that this could be the best of all worlds. Part of it sent chills down Roger’s spine. He hated the idea that there were worlds _worse_ than the one he was in. Could things have been even worse?

 

Maybe it was the best of all worlds. He was as free as he could be, living with a man he loved. But..maybe things could be better? Maybe one day he could actually be free.

 

“Hey, how was the play?” Brian asked, voice rough, when he walked into their shared hotel room later that night.

 

“Great. I learned all about the costume and sets designs from Fred,” Roger replied, changing into soft sleep pants and crawling into the bed. He frowned at the heat coming from Brian and placed his hand on his forehead. “You feel warmer than before.”

 

“Yeah, I feel like shit,” Brian’s eyes closed, and he let out a long breath.

 

“Do you think you’ll be up to the show tomorrow?” Roger asked, concerned.

 

Fever glazed hazel eyes blinked open. “Yeah…I’ll be fine.”

 

Roger nodded and snuggled into Brian’s side, hoping his presence would somewhat help. He smiled to himself as Brian drifted off almost instantly.

 

_Life is happiness indeed._

*

 

As much as he had hoped that Brian would be better he looked so much worse the next day. The guitarist had barely made it through sound check. He was deathly pale and swayed slightly, clammy forehead shimmering with sweat.

 

“I’ll be fine,” he huffed out when Roger checked in for the millionth time.

 

But he wasn’t.

 

He missed entrances and his timing was off during the show. The others watched him worriedly as he hunched over his guitar, trying his best to stay with them. Still, Roger knew his boyfriend had to be feeling miserable.

 

Brian seemed a bit wobbly as he handed his guitar to a roadie and staggered off stage. Heart in his throat, Roger jogged after him. He just wanted to lead Brian to the dressing room and hopefully convince the stubborn ass to finally see a doctor.

 

“Brian, are you-“

 

And it happened in slow motion.

 

At first, Brian’s eyes went far away and blank. Then his knees buckled and he crumpled to the floor before Roger could get to him.

 

“Brian!” Roger cried out, alerting everyone around him to the situation. He practically dove to the unconscious man and cradled his head, panicked tears burning in his eyes. “Brian? Wake up, please, please, please.”

 

He felt unbearably hot, skin almost scorching against his touch.

 

“Someone help! Please!” He called out and the room exploded into motion. John appeared at his side, eyes wide and panicked as Freddie started shouting for Paul.

 

The on site paramedics appeared with impressive speed, preparing the gurney. One of the paramedics shoved Roger aside, making him spread his wings out to try and keep balance, and started snapping instructions to his partner. In no time Brian was on the gurney with an oxygen mask strapped to his face.

 

“We’re going with him right?” Roger felt hysterical, something he knew John sensed since he placed his hand on his back right in between his wings. “Right?”

 

“Paul’s getting the car,” Freddie took his hand and tugged, leading him away from the gurney. For half a second Roger considered fighting but the logical side of him won. He turned and followed Freddie to the car waiting outside, climbing in between both him and John.

 

“Do you think he’s okay?” He asked, tears burning in his eyes. “Do you think he’s going to-“

 

“Hush,” John said softly, taking his hand. “Brian will be fine and ready to annoy us again really soon.”

 

They got to the hospital in just a few minutes, a short time that felt like eternity to Roger, and walked into the crowded waiting room. It smelled of antiseptic and decay, instantly making Roger sick. He swallowed convulsively and looked around, hoping to see Brian walk up and laugh at them for being so worried.

 

“Hello, we’re here to see Brian May,” Freddie said breathlessly to the bored looking nurse at the counter.

 

“No animals allowed.”

 

“What? We just want to see-“

 

“Sir, your pet is going to have to go outside. No animals allowed,” she glared at Roger and his breath caught in his throat.

 

“I’m not leaving,” Roger shook his head wildly. “I need to see him.”

 

The woman’s eyes narrowed. “No. Animals. Allowed.”

 

“I’m not a fucking-“

 

“Rog,” John whispered, nodding towards the security guards walking their way. “Stop. You’ll never be able to see him if we get kicked out or jailed.”

 

His shoulders and wings drooped in resignation. They wouldn’t let him in. If he made a scene then Freddie and John wouldn’t be able to see him either. He wouldn’t let his panic be the reason Brian woke up alone.

 

“I’ll wait outside,” he whispered. “You just…you both see him.”

 

Freddie looked at him sadly before nodding. “It’ll be okay Roger. You can wait in the car with Paul and…and everything will be okay, you’ll see.”

 

Every step was harder than the one before as Roger forced himself out of the waiting room and into the car Paul had pulled out front. He ignored the Irishman as he climbed in the back and curled into as tight of a ball as possible, choking on his own sobs.

 

“You know…if he dies the contract is canceled,” Paul said smoothly. “You can’t be owned by Brian May if there is no Brian May. Mr. Foster would be devastated but he would take good care of you.”

 

“Shut up!” Roger shrieked, slamming his feet into the back of Paul’s chair. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut-“

 

The zap of electricity had him writhing on the back seat of the car for a moment before he lay across the back seat, panting and sobbing.

 

“I know you’re sad and all but it doesn’t mean you can act out,” Paul glared at him through the rearview mirror. “Mind your manners.”

 

Roger wanted to scream and fight. He wanted to punch and kick. He wanted to _hurt._

But…he was tired. He was tired of fighting just to see it not matter. Roger blinked the tears back and pressed himself against the door, rubbing at the back of his neck. What if he really lost it and they refused to let him see Brian?

 

Best of all possible worlds?

 

There was no way he was living in the best of all possible worlds.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to lie folks, this chapter is ROUGH. It broke my heart to write but things will get better. I promise you!

Two weeks. Two weeks had gone by and he still hadn’t seen Brian.

 

They had flown home, Roger staring blankly out the window the whole time. They had gone back to their apartment, Roger having to sleep in his bed alone. They had gone to visit Brian every day, except for Roger who just paced and worried.

 

He was going mad.

 

There wasn’t a day that went by without tears burning in his eyes, chest tight with worry. The threat of the contract being canceled hovered over him but worse was the way Freddie and John clearly were keeping information from him.

 

_Oh, he’s doing great!_

_He’s doing so much better!_

Bullshit.

 

He had just about lost hope when Freddie burst through the door with the most outrageous coat he had ever seen.

 

“Come on darling! We have to go!” He grinned manically, shoving the coat in his hands. The faux tan fur tickled his hands and Roger raised his eyebrows.

 

“Go where?”

 

“To visit Brian of course!” Freddie clapped his hands. “I found this coat and figured that it was huge enough to maybe cover your wings! We can sneak you in!”

 

Hope blossomed in his chest as he folded his wings in as tightly as he could. The coat barely fit and looked a bit ridiculous but his wings were hidden. Freddie bounced on his feet and took his hand, pulling him out of the door.

 

Even Paul glancing at him through the rearview mirror couldn’t dampen his spirits. He was going to see Brian! He was going to be able to hold his hand and actually speak to him!

 

They got through the lobby easily, no one seeming to find someone wearing a huge coat in the heat of May strange. The elevator seemed to take years to reach the floor Brian was on and Freddie’s firm hand was the only thing keeping him from sprinting down the hall. Finally, they got to the door with B. May scribbled onto the door plaque.

 

His heart was in his throat as he walked into the room. John smiled at them from where he sat in a chair on the side of the room, hand lifting in greeting. Brian lay in the bed, swaddled in blankets and covered in more wires than Roger had ever seen.

 

He looked horrible.

 

His hair was limp and dull, clearly not being taken care of with the same attention it always was. He had gotten a bit thin, cheekbone gaunt and sharp. His skin was a horrible yellow tint to it which made him look waxy and on death’s doorstep.

 

But he smiled.

 

“Roger,” he breathed, and Roger burst into sobs. He threw himself at the bed, wrapping his arms around Brian’s neck. One weak arm wrapped around him and lightly tugged on the coat. “What is this?”

 

“My disguise,” Roger chuckled tearfully. “No pets allowed, you know.”

 

Brian’s grip tightened slightly before he relaxed. “I missed you.”

 

“Me too,” Roger leaned back, looking over Brian worriedly. “Are you feeling better? Are you still feeling ill? What are-“

 

He caught sight of Brian’s heavily bandaged arm and touched it lightly, looking at the guitarist whose breath caught in his throat.

 

“Gangrene,” Brian’s voice came out weak and hoarse. “Just from one of the shots we got. It gave me hepatitis and caused an infection in the arm.”

 

“Why didn’t you two tell me?” Roger whirled around to glare at his bandmates.

 

“Because I’m going to…I’m going to lose my arm,” his voice broke in a sob and the world came to a halt. “The infection has gotten terrible. I’m asking them to hold off but…the doctors don’t think the treatments are going to work.”

 

Lose his arm.

 

Brian could lose his arm.

 

If he lost his arm that would be the end of Queen.

 

They wouldn’t be able to record another album.

 

They would never be able to pay Ray Foster.

 

“That won’t happen,” Roger whispered. “It can’t. It won’t happen.”

 

“Rog-“

 

“No, because if you lose your arm then you won’t be able to share your gift with the world. I’ll be taken away and we won’t be able to be together,” Roger’s breath caught in his throat. “And that won’t happen.”

 

Brian blinked back a few tears. “Let’s be realistic here.”

 

Roger’s breath hitched and he quickly stood, turning to grab at his wing. He winced as he took hold of a long flight feather and pulled it free. “Here.”

 

“What?”

 

“My mother told me that flight feathers have magic.  I can’t fly but…but it still has something. When I was sick she would take hers and put it under my pillow as I slept,” Roger held out the feather. “It’s healing.”

 

Brian took the feather and stroked it lightly before leaning forward and putting the feather under his pillow. “Thank you Roger. I’m so sorry.”

 

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

 

“But…but if I lose my arm then we won’t be able to keep you,” Brian’s voice broke. “You’ll belong to Ray and…Christ, I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

 

Roger reached over to brush tears off his cheeks. “That won’t happen.”

 

It just couldn’t happen.

 

Roger refused to believe it would happen.

 

The rest of the visit was spent quietly. Freddie and John slipped out to give them a bit more privacy. Roger held Brian as he sobbed, grieving the potential loss of his arm and the potential loss of Roger. His heart shattered further when Freddie poked his head back in and informed him that visiting hours were over.

 

“I should have said something earlier,” Brian held onto his hand tightly. “I just wish I had said something earlier and then…I’m so sorry Roger. This is all my fault.”

 

Roger shook his head, pressing a kiss to Brian’s palm. “It isn’t. I’ll be fine and you’ll be fine. I’ll try to visit again soon.”

 

Walking out of the room was horrible and excruciatingly painful. Tears burned in his eyes, but he didn’t let them fall until he got into the car with John and Freddie. John’s hand on his back felt anchoring as he choked and sobbed into his hands.

 

“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you,” he whispered.

 

Roger just shook his head, not trusting his voice. He wiped at his face and refused to look up until they reached the flat. The coat felt too hot and stifling, barely making it through the front door before he tossed it onto the floor.

 

He pushed past Freddie to go into the kitchen, pouring himself a tall glass of lemonade. He pressed his forehead against the smooth metal of the refrigerator and closed his eyes. This was what it must feel like to have an execution date, to know that the end is coming and not being able to do anything about it.

 

“Thank you, Paul,” Freddie was saying when he stepped out. “Honestly, you have no idea how much we appreciate your help.”

 

Maybe now was the time he could tell them what was happening with Paul.

 

Maybe he could stop one of the nightmares from continuing.

 

But then Paul smiled warmly and pressed a kiss to Freddie’s lips, making the singer blush. He bid Roger and a heartbroken looking John goodbye before leaving the flat. The words shriveled and died on his tongue and he swallowed convulsively.

 

“How long has that been going on then?” John asked, venom in his voice.

 

“A…a few weeks maybe? It’s nothing serious but…he’s nice right? He’s great,” the stars in Freddie’s eyes made something twist painfully in his stomach. How could he take away that flicker of happiness? Would Freddie even believe him over his…boyfriend?

 

“I’m going to bed,” Roger murmured, walking to his room and ignoring John who looked shattered.

 

The next morning Roger was awakened by persistent knocking on the door. He grumbled to himself, pulled on a robe that Freddie had gotten him, and walked to answer.

 

“Why hello Roger,” Ray Foster beamed at him, wearing an expensive looking suit. He was followed by the slender angel they had seen in his office a few times, but she kept her eyes on the floor.

 

“Freddie and John aren’t here,” Roger said shortly, keeping the door open only a crack.

 “Oh, they aren’t? I bet they’re visiting Brian,” he smiled kindly. “I bet they’ll be there when Brian receives the flowers I sent. But…you’re part of the band. Could I come in and talk band business with you?”

 

Roger hesitated. He wanted to slam the door shut in his face and go back to bed, hoping that he could ignore the world for just a bit longer, but he knew he couldn’t. This was something he could do that mattered. He couldn’t help Brian or John’s heartbreak but maybe he could do this.

 

Ray patted his shoulder as he walked into the flat, closely followed by the silent angel. The man being in their home felt slimy and wrong. He placed his briefcase on the small dining room table before opening it and pulling out some paperwork.

 

“I’m here to chat about your contract,” Ray said, voice pleasant. “When you signed it, you promised me three albums. You have followed through on two of those albums but the third…”

 

“Brian’s very ill,” Roger muttered.

 

“So ill he might just lose his arm and then…well there won’t be much hope of an album then,” Ray shrugged, and Roger’s stomach lurched.

 

“He just needs a bit more time.”

 

“That’s just it though,” Ray handed him the papers and Roger stared down, trying not to show that he could only read a few words on the page. “The album is due to be finished in two weeks. You haven’t started on it yet and I doubt Brian is going to be in tip top shape by then.”

 

Roger blinked down at the paper. “Okay…”

 

“What I’m saying is that you won’t be able to fulfill your end of our contract. If that is the case then your contract is null and void,” Ray looked sympathetic, but Roger thought he was going to be sick.

 

“Just give us more time!”

 

“I’d love to Roger, I really would,” he sighed dramatically. “But I’m afraid it’s written there in plain English. Maybe if someone were to convince me…”

 

The papers crinkled in his hands as Roger realized where this was going. “No.”

 

“No?”

 

“I’m not doing anything for you,” he hissed, eyes flashing as he snarled at Ray. “You don’t own me, you can’t make me do anything.”

 

Ray just smiled blandly. “I’m afraid there must have been a misunderstanding. I wouldn’t force you to do anything my dear. I’m just offering a solution to a truly tragic problem. I can’t imagine any other production company signing you after hearing that your guitarist is so sick. I know it’ll kill Brian that he was the reason your band failed…it would probably kill you too knowing you had the chance to buy more time.”

 

Roger wasn’t stupid. He knew when he was being manipulated. He knew that Ray was pressing every button he had, and he knew it was working. If there was any chance of saving Queen, he had to take it.

 

“Wait…what kind of…convincing were you thinking?” Roger growled through clenched teeth.

 

“Nothing like what you’re thinking! It’s just for you to show your dedication,” Ray took a seat on the couch, unbuttoning his pants. “A handjob maybe?”

 

He could walk away.

 

He could tell Ray to fuck off and kick him out of their house.

 

He could ruin Queen.

 

It was just a handjob…he’s done it before. He just had to close his eyes and go through the motions…then he would get the time they needed for Brian to recover and for them to make their album.

 

His feet felt leaden as he made his way towards Ray, ignoring the too still angel on the other side of the room. He sat on the couch next to the man and took a deep breath.

 

Just go through the motions.

 

If he closed his eyes, he didn’t have to see the way the older man’s look of pleasure. Years of practice allowed him to mostly block out the breathy moans, hissed names, and the rough touch on fingers gripping his feathers.

 

Thankfully, Ray came quickly and he jerked his hand back.

 

“That was wonderful,” Ray panted.

 

“Do we have more time?” Roger asked shortly, wiping his hand on the bottom of his shirt. “That was the deal.”

 

“Of course,” Ray reached up to cup his cheek. “I know Brian will be grateful when-“

 

“You can’t tell him!” Wild panic rose up in Roger’s chest.

 

Something else flashed through Ray’s eyes and he smiled again. “No? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

 

“…no.”

 

“No?”

 

“No, sir,” Roger mumbled, blushing.

 

“So, I didn’t hurt you and I didn’t hold you down and force you to do anything…oh, you think Brian will be upset with you? You think he’ll see it as a betrayal that you willingly got another man off?” Roger felt sick, eyes burning with tears. “I’ll keep your secret Roger, don’t you worry.”

 

He placed the contract in his briefcase, tucked his shirt back in and snapped his fingers at the angel who scurried after him. Ray strode out the door, an air of poisonous victory around him but the angel paused. She looked up at Roger and her eyes went suddenly very hard.

 

“I will destroy any man who dares abuse my trust,” the words came out so quiet he barely heard them but Roger’s breath still caught in his throat.

 

“Sister, I live and lie for you,” he replied equally as soft and she smiled before following her master out the door.

 

The door closed and he crumpled to the floor, sobs making his chest ache.

 

He had saved Queen.

 

He would be the reason they had time to finish their album.

 

But it felt like it was costing him everything.

 

He couldn’t be there with Brian. He couldn’t fix his arm or heal him any more than a stupid feather until his pillow could. He couldn’t betray Freddie and he couldn’t unbreak John’s heart. He couldn’t fix all the broken things in his life.

 

Despite how horrible and vile it was, he could get more time for them.

 

That was something he could do.


	29. Chapter 29

Most of their free time, the very little free time that they had, was spent lying in bed.

 

Brian was recovering from his illness and the long hours trying to catch up on recording took their toll on him. He was still pale, eyes still holding a yellowed tint, but he was here at home. Sometimes he would just sleep as Roger read or practiced his writing quietly next to him.

 

The chaos of recording drained all of them, Brian most of all. Their due date for the album, while extended, was still an ever-looming pressure to get it done. They had to push aside the exhaustion, pain and lingering illness to get it done.

 

One afternoon, after a full morning of recording, Brian collapsed into his bed as usual and Roger hopping in after him. He brought his knees to his chest, the notebook John had given him balanced on them. Brian loved these moments, the moments when Roger lost himself in song writing or thinking of music.

 

“What’re you working on?” Brian asked, body lax with oncoming sleep.

 

“A song.”

 

“Can I see?” He tried to prop himself up, but Roger raised an eyebrow at him. “Please? I promise I’ll go right to sleep as soon as I do, swear it.”

 

Roger rolled his eyes but turned the notebook towards him. Something warm filled Brian’s chest at that. When he first started learning Roger had been hesitant to share what he had written as he was embarrassed by the mistakes. Now, he knew Brian wouldn’t judge or make fun of him.

 

_I lik the gud things n lif_

_But most ov the best things ant fre_

_It’s the sam situachin jst kuts lik a nif_

_Wen ure yng and ure por and ure krasi_

“I like it,” Brian smiled, and Roger preened a bit. “You have a very poetic way of writing.”

 

“Nah, that’s the rest of you,” he blushed.

 

“Oh please, I’m not that good and John wrote about coming too early for God sakes,” Brian teased, getting a loud laugh in response. “What’s it about?”

 

Roger took the notebook back and tapped his chewed pencil on the notebook. “Nothing really.”

 

“Nothing?”

 

The angel huffed out a sigh. “I just…I wanted to write about how it’s hard you know? That life is hard even if we want it to be easy.”

 

“Young and poor and crazy huh? That hits the nail on the head,” Brian lay back down, hooking his chin over Roger’s shoulder. “Sing me the next verse?”

 

Roger hesitated before starting off in his raspy, soft voice. “Oh, give me a good guitar, and you can say that my hair’s a disgrace. Or just find me an open car, I’ll make the speed of light outta this place.”

 

“Your hair isn’t a disgrace,” Brian mumbled against his shoulder. “You really want to leave?”

 

“I would never want to leave you, not even…I want to leave _this_ ,” he waved his hand in the air. “I just want to be with you and make music and be happy.”

 

“But the best things ain’t free, right?” Something strange passed over Roger’s face at that and Brian frowned. “What?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Roger,” Brian used his best warning voice and Roger’s lips tightened.

 

The angel seemed to war with himself over something before gripping the back of his thighs tightly. “Can I tell you something? Something that you’re going to be…very angry about?”

 

Brian’s heart fell and he nodded dumbly. What the hell could Roger possibly have to tell him that was so terrible? _A situation that cuts like a knife._ That was enough to scare the shit out of him.

 

“Okay,” Roger let out a long breath. “When you were in the hospital I was left alone a lot. I wasn’t allowed in the hospital, you know?”

 

He nodded again, still sickened by that idea.

 

“One day I was home, and someone knocked on the door…it was Ray,” Roger flinched at Brian’s angry hiss. “He asked if he could come in because he had some band business to talk about and…well I was part of the band…so I let him.”

 

“Ray came here?” Roger nodded miserably.

 

“He said that we were not going to be able to fulfill our part of the contract because you got sick. He said that if you lost you arm that would be it for us…he said then we would never be able to pay off my contract and I would belong to him,” Roger went a bit pale and scrunched down further, wings wrapping around him. “He said that unless I ‘convinced’ him to give us extra time we would be done.”

 

Brian was going to be sick.

 

Nausea churned horribly in his stomach and rage made his vision swim.

 

“He hurt you.”

 

Roger shook his head. “No…no he didn’t hurt me. He had me…it was my choice. It was just a handjob.”

 

The lamp exploded against the far wall before Brian even knew what happened. Beside him Roger sat perfectly still, eyes wide and terrified. His breathing came in frantic little bursts and he clutched his notebook like a shield.

 

“That fucking ps-“

 

“I’m sorry Brian,” Roger breathed, trembling. “I’m so sorry…I didn’t want to, I did it for you. I swear, I did it for us.”

 

It was nearly impossible to take in enough breath to calm down even slightly. When he managed to do so he took Roger’s face in his hands and forced their eyes together. “It’s not your fault Rog, I’m not mad at you.”

 

All the tension rushed out an left Roger sagging in his hands. “You’re not?”

 

“No! I’m furious at the ugly, monstrous, sleaze king that took advantage,” Brian could feel himself trembling with rage. “How fucking dare he?”

 

“Oh, good,” Roger sighed. “Because…I didn’t want to tell you.”

 

“You can tell me anything,” Brian swore and Roger’s eyes flicked again.

 

“Actually, Pa-“

 

“What in the hell is happening in here?” John shoved open the door, followed by a clearly annoyed Freddie. “And don’t tell me it was nothing. Crashes like that don’t come from nothing.”

 

“Ray payed Roger a visit while I was in the hospital and decided it would be okay to put his fucking hands on him in exchange for extra recording time,” Brian spat and the others stiffened. “So we’re done with them. We’re done with Foster Records. I’m not playing for a rapist.”

 

“Of fucking course not! That diseased dog, that…that overgrown schoolboy bully,” Freddie seethed. “We can’t keep playing for him! I’ll cut out my own vocal chords first!”

 

John looked beyond furious as well, eyes narrowed and flashing. He clenched his hands into fists before scrubbing at his face. “Okay, let’s be logical…obviously we’re done but-“

 

“No! We can’t just stop!” Roger shook his head. “No one will pick us up again. We need him.”

 

“He needs us!” John snapped. “What we need is a lawyer or something to get us out of that fucking mess. We can get another manager and be done with him!”

 

Brian’s heart sank at that. They barely had enough money to pay for electricity, much less a pricy lawyer to go against Ray’s. How the hell could they get out of this nightmare?

 

“Wait,” Roger scrambled off of the bed, tiptoed around broken glass, and vanished into his own room. Moments later he came out brandishing a small card. “I got this. Jim’s a lawyer and he said he could help us.”

 

Brian hesitated. He couldn’t stand to put them in the mercy of a stranger just to get in a similar situation. God, they would still be in it if Roger hadn’t built up the courage to tell him. “I don’t know Rog.”

 

“I trust Jim,” Roger tapped the card against his palm. “And he’ll help us. I made a mistake trusting Ray and won’t do it again. I have to fix this.”

 

“You didn’t mess anything up, he did,” Freddie snapped before he softened slightly. “But if you trust him…shit, we just need to get you away from him as fast as fucking possible.”

 

He took the card and swept out of the room, leaving behind a strange feeling. Roger looked between them all, nervous and awkward, and it broke Brian’s heart. Did he think that they would be angry at him? Did he honestly thing he had done something wrong?

 

In two large steps, Brian stood in front of Roger and pulled him into his arms. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. I’m sorry I let you down.”

 

It was a hollow victory when Roger didn’t apologize either.

 

He at least understood that it wasn’t his fault but…it shattered Brian that he had felt the need to do it at all.

 

“I just wanted us to be okay…I wanted it to be over,” Roger whispered.

 

“It is over now.”


	30. Chapter 30

Ray must have put a lot of thought into the set up of his office.

 

The colors were dark and oppressive. Combined with the heavy curtains and bulky furniture it seemed almost like the walls were closing in a bit. Everything about the office was designed to give Ray the appearance of being grander than he really was, a false stage for him to sit on.

 

So, it felt like a small victory when Roger ignored the kneeling pillow and sat next to Brian on the couch. He saw how Ray’s eyes narrowed and the way his jaw clenched but he just kept his eyes forward, not shrinking down an inch.

 

He was never sitting on a kneeling pillow again.

 

“So,” Ray clapped his hands together, motioning to the pillow like Roger had forgotten he was supposed to sit there. When the angel didn’t move, he let out a short breath. “You sounded insistent that we meet, and you’ve brought a lawyer, what can I do for you gents?”

 

Jim stepped forward at that, clearing his throat and placing a hand on Freddie’s shoulder. “Mr. Foster? My name is Jim Beach and I’m the lawyer representing Queen. The group has brought me to discuss leaving this management company.”

 

“Leaving?” Ray had the gall to look shocked at that. “Why on Earth would they want to leave?”

 

“They are interested in different opportunities,” Jim interrupted before any of them could say anything, squeezing Freddie’s shoulder in warning. Before they came to the meeting Jim had told them again and again not to say much, warning them that it could backfire.

 

Ray tsked and shook his head. “Well, I’m devastated to hear that. I hate to part ways with you talented young men. However…I do…oh no, you never did pay off Roger’s contract. Do you have that money now?”

 

The way his fake pout turned into a sneer made Roger’s stomach turn. This was the part he trusted Jim with but was completely terrified. If they misread…if they weren’t able to make this work, it would all be for nothing. Brian’s slender fingers curled around his own and squeezed.

 

“They have already paid it,” Jim opened his briefcase, pulling out a contract. “In fact, they paid off the contract a long time ago.”

 

“I’m sorry if there was a misunderstanding but the contract has not been paid off,” Ray shook his head, eyes lingering on Roger. “They chose to pay for studio fees and things of that nature. They put the contract on the backburner…it was their choice.”

 

Brian’s entire body lurched forward a bit, but Roger squeezed his hand again. Jim shot him a warning look and took a deep breath. “The contract says here that one hundred pounds would be paid each month towards it.”

 

“But they often didn’t have one hundred pounds after their fees,” Ray’s eyes narrowed.

 

A faint smile pulled at Jim’s lips. “And you signed a contract that would put the money towards paying off the angel’s contract. There is nothing in here about studio fees. The payment should have been made first which means that they have paid off the contract long ago.”

 

Ray shook his head, now looking annoyed. “No, that’s not what I meant-“

 

“Mr. Foster, the law doesn’t recognize what you meant, it recognizes what is written in black and white,” he pointed to the contract. “In fact, according to the paystubs I’ve been looking through you owe them money. The band has been generous enough to forgive the owed money if it means a clean split.”

 

The other man stared at them blankly, glancing between them. “This is bullshit.”

 

“What’s bullshit is taking advantage of desperate people,” Brian said, voice low and dangerous. His eyes flashed with a fire Roger had never seen before. “What’s bullshit is forcing someone to please you sexually.”

 

“Force? I never forced him,” Ray’s eyes narrowed further. “Roger, did I hold you down and force you? Did I hurt you?”

 

He smirked a bit and Roger’s blood boiled. He still thought he was going to win. He still thought he hadn’t done anything wrong. Anger, sharp and dark, flashed through him.

 

“Your dick was too small to hurt anything,” he said slowly, getting a snort from John. “But I can guarantee that I had absolutely no desire to touch the shriveled thing between your legs. You threatened me into it.”

 

“I did no such thing!” Ray snarled.

 

“You did.”

 

The voice was so soft it was almost not heard. Everyone’s head snapped towards the angel kneeling by Ray’s desk, yellow wings pulled in tight. There was a faint blush on her cheeks, but her eyes were icy and fixed on Ray.

 

“What did you say bitch?”

 

“You told him that you would not allow them to record another album, that you wouldn’t give them the time for Mr. May to recover,” her voice got stronger with every word. “You left him no choice.”

 

Brian stood up so fast that it startled everyone else in the room. Roger felt himself grin as Ray shrunk back, nervous at the way he towered over him. “It’s done Foster. We are going to walk out of this office and be done. You are done abusing us. You are done abusing Roger.”

 

“I didn’t abuse him. He’s not a real fucking person,” Ray shouted. “He’s a fucking pet, a whore. Hell, I would be using him for his intended purpose not-“

 

Brian jerked forward and Ray jumped back. “Watch yourself Foster.”

 

“I’m sure the press would be interested in hearing how you treat bands,” Jim spoke up. “How you lie and cheat them out of their hard-earned money. How bands who bring you in so much make so little. I bet you’ll lose several signings.”

 

Ray sputtered before scowling down at his desk. His hands tightened into fists and he let out an angry huff before glaring up at them. “You know what’s going to happen, don’t you? If you don’t fail, a big if at that, if your name doesn’t just fizzle out into nothing, then what? Let’s say you do actually make it big, let’s say your name does end up big in lights and you play in all the greatest venues. You really think this high and mighty attitude is going to remain?”

 

“We-“

 

“No, I’ll tell you what will happen. You’ll make money and suddenly be able to buy your own toys. New, young, fresh toys that you will be able to make whatever you want. New toys that won’t talk back or get all weepy. All this treat them like a person is going to go out the window,” Ray glared at them. “And Roger? You’ll be tossed aside faster than you can blink.”

 

“Fuck you,” Roger got to his feet as well, wings flaring out. “I’m not a thing, I’m not a toy, and I’m not yours. I don’t belong to anyone but myself.”

 

“And Queen doesn’t belong to anyone but us either,” Freddie spoke up, standing. “Goodbye Ray, you giant fucking prick.”

 

They started out the door before Roger paused, wings slightly outstretched so the others couldn’t get past him. He turned to look at Ray, head held high. “There’s the money you owe us as well.”

 

“Your _lawyer_ said that you were willing to ignore that,” Ray snarled.

 

“If we made a clean break. I’m feeling quite dirty just being around you,” Roger raised his eyebrows. “We’ll take her.”

 

He pointed to the yellow winged angel.

 

Ray laughed, harsh and barking. “You can’t be serious.”

 

“I am,” Roger stared him down, enjoying the way Ray seemed to falter. “Just give the paperwork to Jim.”

 

There was half a beat before Ray aimed a strong kick at the angel kneeling at his feet. She yelped and scurried towards them, dark eyes wide and nervous. “Just get the fuck out.”

 

Roger wrapped his arm around the girl’s trembling shoulders and walked out of the office, head held high. In another world he could have been kneeling side by side with her, owned and enslaved. Instead he walked out of that office as a free man. Jim followed shortly after, holding a crinkled stack of papers.

 

“Are you alright?” He asked softly as she still shook in his arms. John stripped off his jacket and put it over her shoulders, knowing that her too thin slip of a dress couldn’t be keeping her warm. “What’s your name?”

 

“I…I don’t have one,” she whispered, eyes still wide. “Master never allowed me to have one.”

 

Instantly Roger felt sick. Would Ray have taken his name, his own identity, away from him? Would he have broken him down until there was nothing left? Just the thought of it made him almost dizzy with fear.

 

“Lucky for you darling, I am a genius at giving names,” Freddie swooped in, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “I gave Miami over there his name?”

 

“I’m sorry?” Jim looked confused.

 

“Oh! I forgot to tell you! You’re not Jim Beach anymore, ugh how dreadful,” Freddie scrunched up his nose. “You’re Miami now.”

 

A faint smile quirked at Jim’s lips as he rolled his eyes fondly and shrugged.

 

“I think you look like a…Leona,” he grinned and cupped her cheek. “It means lioness and my dear, you were a lioness in there.”

 

She let out a disbelieving laugh before grinning brighter than Roger had ever seen before. “I like that very much.”

 

“Fantastic! I think you’ll make a wonderful assistant to Miami here. Our manager is going to need an assistant of course,” Freddie beamed.

 

Jim cleared his throat. “Excuse me? Manager?”

 

At that Roger’s heart sank. Jim had seemed completely willing to help out when they called. In the short meeting they had he had been full of quiet anger at the injustice of it all. However, to ask him to be their manager? That was a lot.

 

“It’s the opportunity of a lifetime, to manager this,” Freddie spread his arms out, motioning to the little group gathered by the elevator. “And I can’t promise we’ll be able to offer this opportunity again. Take it or leave it.”

 

It was a bold move, but Freddie had never been anything else but bold.

 

“I’ve never managed a band before,” Jim raised his eyebrows, looking between the four of them.

 

Roger stepped forward, drawing attention towards himself. “Jim, you’re a lawyer and I understand that. You’re not a manager and you may not even want this job. But…but you’ll treat us fairly and as equals. I promise we’ll make it worth it. If you help us, we will do what we can to make sure to not regret it.”

 

Jim looked thoughtful, tapping his fingers on his briefcase. “The way the world treats you isn’t right and the world just ignores it and normalizes it. I think you all will make a difference, will change it all. If I can be just a tiny part of that…I think I would like to.”

 

“Really?” Roger gasped, grinning as Jim nodded.

 

“You got yourselves a manager,” Jim let out a little laugh, almost like he was surprised at himself. He held out the paper towards Roger, smile on his face. “Your contract Roger.”

 

Taking that piece of paper should have felt freeing.

 

It should have felt like a weight was lifted off his shoulders.

 

Instead…it felt underwhelming.

 

This stupid little scrap of paper with his name on it determined what he was. The name written beside the word owner determined what he was. He would never own himself, not really.

 

But no one else would either.

 

He tore the contract in two, getting a gasp from Brian.

 

“Rog, that is proof that-“

 

“I won’t belong to anyone, ever again,” he snapped back. It was a bit of a pointless stand and Roger knew that. Just tearing a piece of paper in half didn’t mean anything. He was still not a person in the eyes of the law.

 

But, the way Leona looked at him made him feel a bit more confident. Her eyes shone with hope and a thrill for the future that she had never even dreamed of.

 

Maybe someday he could make more angels feel that way.

 

They could do that.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter became a bunch of emotional smut. I teared up when I wrote it.

“Was all of this a mistake?” Roger whispered, staring up at the stupid little glow in the dark stars on Brian’s ceiling. “Did…I…I’m scared you guys made the most terrible mistake because of me.”

 

 Brian rolled over, staring at the angel beside him for a moment. “Don’t be dumb. It wasn’t a mistake.”

 

He watched as Roger bit his lip and narrowed his eyes slightly, looking almost like he was trying not to cry. “We had a record deal…we were getting tours and…we needed Foster and I fucked it up.”

 

“Hey,” Brian pushed himself up on his elbow, frowning as Roger squirmed away. “He was taking advantage of the situation. He was a shitty manager anyway. Besides the disgusting way he treated you he did nothing to help us. Remember the Top of the Pops thing? He didn’t even try to fight-“

 

“You mean how they wouldn’t let us play because of me?” Roger scowled. “Because I seem to be the common factor in our failures.”

 

His voice cracked at the last word and Brian felt his heart fall. It had been a little over two weeks since the split from Ray and although they were all worried about what could come, Roger was anxious beyond belief. He was quieter than usual, nervous almost, and nothing seemed to fix it.

 

“And you are a common factor in our success too,” Brian rested a hand on his arm and Roger shook his head.

 

“Oh sure,” Roger mumbled, something dark and thunderous crossing over his face. “All the good I’ve done for you all. All the people who have turned us away because of me. The way that Ray could use me to…to fucking control us. Maybe he was right. Maybe if I had just whored myself out like I was _made_ for-“

 

“Shh, stop,” Brian tried to sound soothing but Roger clearly was on the path to overwhelming himself.

 

“Because that’s what I am. I’m not a person or a…a thing that matters. The reason I was born, the reason I was made, was to please humans. Think about that Brian…your parents brought you into the world because they loved each other and wanted a child. I’m only here because my parents were good breeding stock, and someone thought they could make money off of me.”

 

Brian listened, chest tight and hollow. “Roger-“

 

“And I’m so scared that you’ll realize that too,” Roger’s body jerked with a sob and he squeezed his eyes tight. “I’m so fucking scared that you’ll realize you’re wasting your time. You’ll find someone who matters and…you’ll see that all of this was a waste.”

 

“A waste?” Brian sat up fully, blanket pooling around his hips. He hovered a bit before cupping Roger’s tearstained cheek in his hand. “Look at me Roger, please.”

 

It took a moment but Roger blinked his tear filled eyes open and looked up at him.

 

“You are what matters. God, you are the _only thing_ that matters. We left Foster because he was hurting you and we love you. We keep you in the band because you are immensely talented, and we love you. I won’t be able to find someone else because there isn’t anyone else for me,” he stroked his thumb along a sharp cheekbone. “You matter so fucking much.”

 

“But-“

 

“And I don’t want to imagine a future if you aren’t in it,” he whispered, pressing their foreheads together.

 

Roger sniffed and looped his arms around Brian’s neck, pulling him in so tight that it almost hurt. “I want to believe you.”

 

Tears burned in his own eyes but Brian pressed their lips together as gently as he could. Roger shuddered in his hold and kissed back, breath stuttering against his lips. He tried pouring every thought, feeling and emotion into the kiss.

 

_You mean the world to me._

_You are the brightest star in my sky._

_You help bring me out of the dark I fall into sometimes._

_Without you I don’t know what I would do._

Roger started kissing a bit frantically, teeth clashing against Brian’s and he pressed up against him. At that Brian pulled back, frowning at the familiar glaze in Roger’s eyes. “Hey, it’s okay.”

 

The angel didn’t answer, hastily undoing the back of his shirt and pulling it off. His wings flared out a bit behind him and he climbed into Brian’s lap. Blue eyes were dark and flinty but so, so empty. He startled as Roger cupped his cheek and forced their eyes to meet.

 

“Hey, Rog,” Brian said gently. “You with me?”

 

Roger’s jaw clenched and he let out a long breath. “Y-yeah.”

 

“We can stop, it’s okay,” he hated when Roger got into these dazes. His eyes would go far away and it was like he was moving on muscle memory along. It was because of training and that alone made Brian sick. He hated that Roger would slip into a safe place, just doing what he had to in order to survive.

 

“I don’t want to stop,” Roger shook his head.

 

Brian let his hand slide from Roger’s cheek to the side of his head, brushing through soft hair. “I know sweetheart, but do you need to?”

 

There was half a moment where Brian thought maybe Roger would agree but then the angel shook his head. “No. I want you. I want…” his face went firm. “I’m okay.”

 

“Then tell me what you need,” Brian kept rubbing small circles along his temple.

 

A small smile, the first true one Brian has seen in a long time, quirked at Roger’s lips and he leaned into the touch. “I need to be yours and I need you to be mine.”

 

“You don’t belong to anyone, okay?” Brian smiled back and kissed his nose.

 

“No…I…” his nose scrunched up slightly. “It’s hard to explain…before I didn’t have a choice but…I do now.”

 

And Brian understood.

 

The most important thing in the world to Roger was his autonomy. For his entire life it had been taken from him, treated like it meant nothing. To have him offer part of himself as a gift, a gift he chose to give, was more precious than anything.

 

“I’m yours,” he whispered back and Roger relaxed. “And you’re mine.”

 

It was about trust.

 

Roger was giving part of himself to Brian and trusting that he wouldn’t take advantage.

 

Brian was giving part of himself to Roger and trusting that he could help him heal.

 

It was like a promise was made, sworn by gentle kisses and touches. Clothes were shed until they were touching bare skin to bare skin. Roger’s wings curled so the tips of his longest feathers brushed against the small of Brian’s back, surrounding them both in blue.

 

The angel shuddered in Brian’s lap, brow furrowed and eyes sliding closed as Brian fumbled for a bottle of lube in the bedside table. A groan vibrated deep in his chest at the first gentle press of a finger. His head tipped back when Brian slid the finger all the way in.

 

“Hey, look at me,” he whispered when Roger went tense. Blue eyes fluttered open and locked onto his, a faint flicker of fear in them. “Are you okay?”

 

Roger’s lips tightened and he took in a trembling breath. “You wouldn’t hurt me.”

 

It wasn’t a question, but Brian shook his head anyway. “Never. I swear that Roger.”

 

The angel relaxed further and rolled his hips back, a smile on his face. “I know.”

 

After that they didn’t need to talk. Brian took his time opening Roger up, making sure everything was as painless as possible. Their eyes never left each other’s, not even when Brian finally pushed in. He held perfectly still, ignoring his body telling him to buck into the tight heat around him.

 

“You-“

 

“I’m fine,” Roger whispered breathlessly. A wide, shining smile lit up his face and he tightened their wings around them. “It feels good, it feels really good.”

 

Slowly they rocked together, bodies pressed against each other tight. Breathy sighs turned into moans, muffled by shared kisses. When Brian came he felt like a damn supernova had gone off in his chest, burning every part of him deliciously. Clumsily, he took Roger’s cock in his hand and stroked until the angel came undone above him.

 

Seeing Roger let go, strong and beautiful around him, left Brian short of breath. He pulled the angel in for a deep kiss and let his hands stroke along the downy feathers at the base of his wings.

 

“Thank you,” Roger whispered against his lips and Brian honestly thought he could cry.

 

“Thank _you_ ,” he replied. “Thank you for being the best thing in my life.”

 

A laugh bubbled out of Roger as he slid out of Brian’s lap, laying on his chest when they repositioned themselves. Those insecurities couldn’t have just gone away with some kisses and words, Brian knew that, but he prayed that it had lessened somewhat. He was willing to spend the rest of his life reminding Roger just how special he was.

 

The angel’s eyes slid closed as Brian gently combed his fingers through his hair, enjoying the soft tresses against his fingers. He could happily spend the rest of his life in his moment.

 

Then Roger jerked and let out a hiss, hand shooting back to cup at the back of his neck. Concerned, Brian brushed the long hair away to see what looked like a red burn. “What in the hell happened?”

 

“Um…” Roger blinked at him, blue eyes huge. “Um…remember that photoshoot we did? The hairstylist was using a metal comb when she was blow drying my hair and I guess it overheated.”

 

“She burnt you with a comb?” Brian frowned.

 

“Yeah,” the angel gave him a tight smile. “But it doesn’t even really hurt…it doesn’t matter. I just want to be here with you, okay? I don’t want to worry about anything else.”

 

“Okay,” Brian nodded and kissed the top of his head. “Let me know if she burns you again and I’ll fight her for you.”

 

The laugh Roger let out sounded awkward and forced. “With everything going on that is the least of my concerns. I don’t want to cause any more problems.”

 

“Fine,” Brian sighed, laying back down and pulling Roger to lay next to him. “But I’ll fight for you. I’ll win too. Show her where she can put that hot comb.”

 

“I bet,” Roger’s voice was soft.

 

Yeah, Brian didn’t want to be anywhere else but here.  


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate Brian too much...

Roger had hoped that separating from Ray’s production company would mean Paul getting out of their lives as well. He hoped that he would never have to wear that heavy, cold collar around his throat or deal with the dark eyes watching him, finger waiting to make him writhe in pain.

 

That’s not what happened.

 

Even worse, he became more engrained in their lives.

 

Paul spent more and more time at the flat. Every time Roger walked out into the sitting room he was met with the sight of Freddie sitting with their manager on the sofa, legs tangled together as they went over one of the songs. Blue eyes met his and Paul would smile at him, knowing that he had kept their secret.

 

How could he not? Paul had managed to secure them a fourth album, gotten them time in a studio to record it, and had scheduled them interviews. He was the reason they were keeping their career alive and…a few shocks and degradation was worth it in the end…right?

 

So, he didn’t say anything as they packed up for the next few months to go to Ridge Farm. He didn’t say anything when John moped around, hiding away in Roger’s room more often than not. He didn’t say anything when they spent an uncomfortable, cramped ride to the farm.

 

The farm itself was rather nice. It reminded Roger a bit of the training kennels he had grown up in with the empty expanses of land around them (so if they ran there wouldn’t be anywhere for them to go). However, instead of the grey concrete walls and iron bars there was warm wood paneling and lacy curtains. Maybe it would be comforting if not for the _quiet_ that blanketed over them.

 

“The largest room goes to Freddie of course,” Paul waved towards the master bedroom and Freddie swept in, tossing his suitcase on the bed. “Next to him is mine. Here’s Brian’s and John, you’re downstairs.”

 

Irritation spiked in Roger, his wings even flaring a bit. He watched as the other band members wandered off to their rooms. “And mine?”

 

“I just assumed you’d sleep in Brian’s bed or sleep on his floor,” he shrugged.

 

“No. I’m here recording with _my band_ and I get a room,” Roger snarled, hating that he was along with this cretin in the hall.

 

“There’s a little alcove in the barn,” there was a challenge in Paul’s eyes.

 

“I’m not sleeping in the barn or on the floor like an animal,” Roger took a step forward, clenching his hands into fists so he could avoid strangling him like he really wanted. “Freddie! Fred!”

 

Paul raised his eyebrows and raised his hands in surrender. In moments, the others appeared in the hallway and looked between them both.

 

“Tell Paul that I get a fucking room. He wants me to sleep on the floor or in the barn,” Roger was practically trembling with rage. He heard how Brian sucked in a quick breath.

 

“Well…there aren’t enough rooms Rog,” Freddie said slowly, and Roger’s heart sank. “I’m sure Paul didn’t mean any offense…he probably just thought you and Brian would be more comfortable together.”

 

For a heartbeat he was struck dumb. Was Freddie honestly agreeing with him? Was he honestly thinking this was okay?

 

“It’s fine,” Brian said shortly, taking Roger’s elbow and all but pulling him into his room. The door closed behind them and a sea of emotions rushed through him. He was angry, sad, frustrated, and just plain disappointed in the situation.

 

He aimed a sharp kick at the bedpost and then unleashed all his anger, slamming his foot into the wood over and over. “Can you believe this bullshit?”

 

“Hey, hey Roger,” Brian’s voice was aggravatingly soothing, and he felt arms wrap around his waist. “Take a breath.”

 

“You’re not furious at that little weasel?” He snapped and whirled around to face him, meeting wide hazel eyes. “You don’t want to punch his smug little face in?”

 

“I-“

 

Then something sick and horrifying settled in Roger’s stomach. “You don’t. You…don’t see anything wrong with it.”

 

“I mean…you were probably going to sleep in my room anyway…”

 

“But it’s the fact that he just assumed…that he just assumed that I was going to sleep with you or on _your floor_ ,” Roger spat, eyes narrowed. “You don’t see that as degrading and disgusting? He sees me as something less than human, that I don’t even deserve the same rights.”

 

Brian sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face. “Roger, you know we don’t think that but it’s going to be hard to find people who have those same beliefs. You’re going to have to…deal with it. It sucks but we’re going to have to deal with it.”

 

“Deal with it?” Roger breathed, feeling hot and cold all over. “You want me to deal with being treated like an animal?”

 

“Not like an-“

 

“Like the slave I was before?” He felt a sense of satisfaction at Brian’s flinch. “Jesus Christ Brian…you don’t think there is anything wrong with how Prenter is treating me. You don’t hear the way he talks to me like nothing? You don’t see him fucking _electrocuting_ me?”

 

“What?” Brian frowned.

 

“He uses the goddamn shock collar on me! He shocks me all the time,” Roger’s voice went shrill and he waved his hands. “And you all turn a blind eye to it! You just think that-“

 

“Okay, enough of this,” Brian held up a hand. “I get that you don’t like Paul. He’s a bit of a snake, I know that, but he’s not evil. You don’t have to make up stories to get him fired.”

 

Make up stories?

 

Make up stories.

 

The world seemed to stop spinning.

 

“You think I’m making this up?” Roger whispered, feeling the shards of his broken heart cutting into his rib cage. “You think I’m making all this up to get him _fired_. You honestly think so little of me?”

 

Brian pursed his lips and rocked a bit on his feet. “Freddie told me that Paul’s been crying to him, actually crying, because you are threatening to tell us he’s abusing you. I understand you don’t like him but…shit Roger, he wouldn’t _hurt_ you. He’s not a monster.”

 

Did Brian even know what a monster was? Had he ever looked into the eyes of a person who honestly didn’t see him as a person? Had he screamed in pain as other’s took pleasure from him? Had he watched people turn away from him as he sobbed and begged for help?

 

No.

 

No, he hadn’t.

 

He hadn’t and he never would.

 

 “I think I’m more in tune with the evil in this world than you are,” he chose his words carefully, staring at Brian until he glanced down. “And I don’t ignore it for my own personal gain.”

 

“I’m not!”

 

“No? You aren’t ignoring his snide comments because he’s helping us with the album? Freddie isn’t ignoring it because they’re _fucking_ and he wants to keep the blinders on?” Roger grabbed the small suitcase he had dropped earlier.

 

Brian’s frown deepened and he stepped forward, placing a hand over Roger’s on the suitcase. “Hey, it’s okay. Just-“

 

“It’s not okay! It’s not! You keep telling me that I’m free, that I have all the rights of a free man, but then you tell me that I just have to be okay with being treated like a slave,” Roger wrenched the suitcase away. “Either I’m free or I’m not. What is it?”

 

“You’re free, of course you are.”

 

“But I have to be okay with being treated as less then? No,” Roger shook his head sharply. “I’m done being told how to act and how to feel by people who have no damn clue what I’ve been through. You can’t just say that it’s okay. I get to decide that and it’s not okay.”

 

He pushed open the door and stormed down the stairs, using his wing to shove Paul into the wall with a satisfying thud. It only took a few long strides before he made his way across the small courtyard and into the little guesthouse that had been converted into a recording studio.

 

Instantly, he was welcomed with the comforting scent of wood and leather. The tension drained from his shoulders and he wandered through the sound booth, catching sight of a cupboard off to the side. The door stuck slightly but Roger was able to open it to find a small empty closet.

 

Well…it’s wasn’t not a room.

 

A few blankets thrown onto the floor and he had himself a little room. Maybe he was being a bit juvenile by hiding away in a cupboard but he couldn’t stand the thought of facing any of his friends right now, especially Brian.

 

Logically, Roger knew that it wasn’t exactly Brian’s fault. The reality of how angels were treated was something new to him, a world that he didn’t even fully understand. Some things were so horrible that people would rather ignore them than believe that another person could do them.

 

So, he would have to fight for himself.

 

He wasn’t about to roll over and take it anymore.

 

Let Paul try and treat him as less again. He would be ready. He wouldn’t let it happen again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Paul's a manipulative monster who knows exactly what he's doing. He doesn't know that our little firecracker is ready to fight back. 
> 
> And please don't hate Brian. He's tired, stressed, and trying to deal with Freddie being upset about the lies Paul's been feeding him. Sometimes when two people have been through drastically different things it is difficult for one to understand. Brian will never be able to truly understand what Roger has been through and he's going to say and do the wrong thing. They still love each other very much but their relationship will never be perfect, no relationship ever will.


	33. Chapter 33

“Cozy place you got here,” John raised his eyebrows, leaning into the cupboard door. “Almost like a n-“

 

“If you say a nest I will pop you,” Roger grumbled from the bundle of blankets. He had managed to squirrel away a few quilts and blankets to pile up on the floor. There was a collection of holiday decorations in the attic he had rifled through and had hung up a string of fairy lights, illuminating the space with warm light.

 

“Sorry,” John smiled and sat back on the carpeted floor. “And why are you sleeping in a dusty, tiny cupboard rather than a nice warm bed?”

 

“I don’t have a bed,” Roger said slowly, eyebrows raising. “Remember? Paul said I should just warm Brian’s.”

 

John’s lips curled up in distaste and he shook his head. “Still don’t know why Paul gets a bedroom anyway. It’s not like he uses it.”

 

It wasn’t a secret that Paul slipped into Freddie’s room at night. He wasn’t even subtle about it, just smirking at them as he followed their frontman into his room after a night out at the local pub. John went out of his way to avoid them, often staying in his room or in the sound booth where he could just hang out with Roger.

 

“If it makes you feel any better Brian still hasn’t apologized,” Roger mumbled, reaching for the bag of crisps John has brought with him. “He still thinks that he was right. It’s bullshit.”

 

John was silent, absentmindedly picking at the label of his beer. “I…I agree. I think its bullshit but…shit, sorry Rog. I’m so fucking sorry for all of that.”

 

Confused, Roger leaned forward. “What are you talking about? It’s not your fault the world is a nightmare.”

 

“When I was a kid my family struggled…” John hesitated and sucked in a deep breath, ripping a strip of paper off the label. “So, I would dream about what I would do if we had money. I would buy the busted up radios and tinker with them and…maybe I wouldn’t have to work multiple jobs through school or my family wouldn’t have to go hungry sometimes…maybe I would live in a big house and have all the luxuries of the world; nice cars, huge televisions, my own bowling alley…an angel.”

 

Such an intense look of shame crossed over his face that Roger inched forward, placing a hand on his leg but John refused to look at him.

 

“And then I heard you were coming over and I was so fucking excited. I had never seen one of you before and was just _fascinated_. You were so inhuman and beautiful and…I thought of you like a dog or something. I wanted to fucking pet your wings for God’s sake. Then Tim pulled them out and you looked like you were in pain and I saw _you,”_ he saw how John swallowed thickly and squeezed his thigh. “I all I could think about was how the thing I had wanted, the symbol of wealth I suppose, was a person who was scared and in pain. I’m so sorry Roger, I’m so sorry the world doesn’t see it. I’m so sorry you have to struggle and deal with fucking Paul.”

 

He spat the word out with so much venom that Roger felt a small flicker of hope.

 

“He’s hurting me,” he said softly, and John’s head snapped up, brows furrowing. “That shock collar that he made me wear, the one he has the remote for and promised that he wouldn’t use? That was a lie.”

 

John blinked, emotions flitting across his face. “What?”

 

“He electrocutes me often…whenever he can, whenever you all aren’t there. He talks to me like I’m an animal and treats me worse,” tears burned in his eyes. “You think you were the monster? You’re not even close.”

 

“Have you told anyone else?” John finally stuttered out.

 

“I told Brian and he said that he knew. Well, Paul had gone crying to Freddie about how I was making up lies,” he scowled. “Of course, he believed that little snake.”

 

John blinked a few times, green eyes wide. “He wouldn’t-“

 

“He did and what the hell do I do? Brian and Freddie don’t believe me,” he said miserably. “They think I’m lying. They think I’m jealous and dramatic and don’t trust people. Hell, he gets any further into their heads and I’m gone.”

 

There was a beat of silence and John gently took his chin, tilting his face up. “I believe you.”

 

Those three words made something crack in Roger’s chest and he sagged a bit in relief. He hadn’t realized how much he was depending on John’s trust until now. “I don’t want to make any more problems.”

 

John gaped at him, eyes wide and mouth open. For a few moments he just stared before he got to his feet. “Enough, enough of this. I’ll go tell you with them!”

 

Panicked, Roger grabbed his hand and tugged on it until John sat back in the chair. “You can’t! Christ, they don’t believe me do you think they will believe you? Freddie will be pissed and think that you’re trying to take advantage.”

 

“So you just keep getting tortured by this psychopath?” John spat, hands clenching into fists. “That’s not right.”

 

“I don’t know what to do,” Roger whispered. “But I don’t want to be the reason anything gets more broken.”

 

“You’re not going to be broken in the meantime,” John took both his hands, squeezing.  “I’ll talk some sense into Freddie and Brian or…fuck, I’ll beat the shit out of Paul.”

 

“You?” Roger smiled faintly.

 

“My bass is heavy, I’ll cave his stupid head in,” John smiled back and then sighed. “But you’re right…we have to do this right. Paul has a lot of say in the band and a lot of…sway over Freddie. We have to be smart.”

 

Roger nodded. He felt the constant pressure he had felt in his chest start to lessen. Someone believed him, someone wanted to help. They could do this. They could fix things.

 

“Thank you John, thanks for believing me.”

 

“Of course,” John said sincerely. “But you’re not going to be alone with that monster. He won’t hurt you again.”

 

And Roger relaxed for the first time in a long time because he honestly believed him.


	34. Chapter 34

God, he just wanted this awkwardness to end.

 

It was miserable trying to fall asleep in a bed by himself when he knew Roger was curled up in a fucking cupboard.  He knew he could go to the angel and beg for forgiveness. He could get on his knees and blubber out an apology. He could try to make this right.

 

But…was he wrong?

 

Paul might have been a dick, but he was helping them achieve their dream. He had connections to help them get their album made and tours scheduled. As wonderful as Jim was he needed support and their future would be dead in the water if they lost him. That was the point Roger needed to understand. He needed to know that they needed Paul and that they could just deal with his annoyingness. Surely Roger could understand and respect that?

 

So, armed with multiple talking points, Brian made his way to the sound booth.

 

It still made him a bit uneasy to see the angel in the cramped little room but clearly Roger wasn’t bothered. He glanced up, car magazine in his hands and raised his eyebrows. It was almost like a dare, a challenge in a way.

 

“Hey,” Brian hated that he felt awkward.

 

“Hey.”

 

There was another long pause before Brian let out a long sigh. “I wanted to apologize and see if you would come back to my room.”

 

“Apologize for what?” The magazine was still help up.

 

“For…not making sure that Paul gave you a room. I know that you don’t like to be seen as lesser and it wasn’t fair,” he offered a faint smile that wasn’t returned in the least. “So…are we okay?”

 

Roger sat up a bit straighter, magazine placed to the side as his eyes narrowed. “That’s it?”

 

“What?”

 

“That’s it? That’s why you think I’m angry,” his voice shook a bit with frustration as he climbed to his feet, wings stretching out a bit. “You think I’m just angry because I didn’t get my own bed? You couldn’t possibly think that I’m angry because _you agreed with him?_ ”

 

The last words came out hissed and Brian winced. “I don’t agree with him.”

 

“Really?” Roger leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest.

 

“I don’t! But, you have to understand that he is just following beliefs that he has been raised with. Angels have never been free and it is going to be hard for people to accept a change. He is just following what he knows,” Brian tried to explain and Roger’s face grew thunderous.

 

“I have to understand,” Roger’s voice was hollow. “I have to understand? Brian, I understand more than you ever will. You will never have to deal with the fear and pain that I have and I pray to Rhye you never will.”

 

“I know but-“

 

“But? But I should just ignore the evil things people think and say because that’s how it’s always been? If I don’t fight for my own freedom, who will? Apparently, you won’t,” he spat and Brian flinched.

 

“No,” he tried to reach for Roger’s hand but the angel pulled back. “That’s not true.”

 

“You have power that I probably will never have. Instead of using that power to fight for the rights that I am unable to you just…decide not to rock the boat,” Roger’s eyes were icy. “That makes you as bad as everyone else.”

 

It was like a bolt of electricity rocked through him. “I’m not, I love you.”

 

“Here’s what I think happened. I came to you when I was broken and scared and you liked saving me. You liked me depending on you,” Roger stepped forward, wings spreading out to make himself bigger. “Then I started speaking out and you realized that I didn’t need you anymore.”

 

“That isn’t true,” Brian clenched his hands into fists. “You know that I want you to be free more than anyone.”

 

“Do you? Because someone who wants freedom doesn’t just ignore injustice,” tears flashed in Roger’s eyes and his stomach sank further. “They don’t excuse people hurting the people they say they love because _that’s how it’s always been_. If you love someone you fight for them and…you didn’t fight for me.”

 

Honestly, Brian didn’t know how to respond. “I…I wanted to help. I wanted to help you because…Christ Roger, the world is not going to be kind to you.”

 

“Oh I’m aware. I was aware that the world wasn’t going to be kind to me when I was sold and raped,” Roger spat. “I don’t need you teaching me that. You don’t need to use this as a teaching moment.”

 

He was right.

 

Brian ducked his head, swallowing around the ball in his throat. God, Roger was right. He had honestly been treating Roger like a child who didn’t understand the world when he had seen most of the evil in it already.

 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Jesus Roger, I’m so fucking sorry.”

 

“See, that I believed,” Roger turned to sit back down in his little pile of blankets. “Now get the fuck out.”

 

Shamed, Brian turned on his heel and left the sound booth. How could he possibly fix this? How could he possibly make this right? He had been so stupid, trying to protect Roger when he was just making things worse.

 

What if Roger never forgave him?

 

What if he ruined the best thing in his life?

 

What if Roger left?

 

He didn’t think he could honestly handle that.

 

The bed felt even more empty and cold when he fell back onto it. Tears slipped down his temples and wetted his hair. Brian sucked in a few heavy gasps in an effort to calm himself but it didn’t work. His chest felt like someone had ripped a hole it in, burning and empty. What was worse was that it was a pain of his own making.

 

“And how are you going to fix it?” He mumbled to himself, scrubbing at his face. “How are you going to fix this massive fuck up?”

 

He only had one choice.

 

Brian swung his legs over the side of the bed and started to make his way to the sound booth. Hopefully the time he had hidden away in his room had allowed Roger to calm down a bit and he could really tell him how he felt, how sorry he was.

 

At least he could try.

 

The walk outside to the recording booth made him pull his jacket around even tighter. The weather had truly taken a turn and Brian hated the idea that Roger had to spend any time in the chill. The sound booth didn’t have the roaring fireplace or stoves that the main house had after all.

 

“-you talking about me like that again and you’ll regret it,” a harsh voice met his ears and Brian paused, one hand resting on the doorframe.

 

“Talking about you like what?” Roger sounded tired and annoyed.

 

“Like I _abused_ you,” the voice was Paul’s and he sounded angry. “I didn’t and now John is watching me like a hawk.”

 

“I told him the truth,” Roger spat. “If you feel like you did something wrong maybe it is because you did.”

 

“I just tried to train you like you needed to be. If you weren’t so fucking stupid maybe you would be of use to them…instead all you do is lay around, cry, and take up space,” Brian felt like his breath had been stolen away.

 

“Fuck you,” Roger snarled and then everything happened so fast.

 

There was the sound of skin hitting skin.

 

There was the sound of a short yelp of pain.

 

And there was the sound of Brian slamming the door open.

 

Roger’s cheek was reddened with a clear handprint. His hair was caught in Paul’s grip and his head was yanked back, showing a clear look of pain. Both of their eyes shot to Brian and Paul quickly let go, fixing a wide smile on his face.

 

“Oh, hi Brian.”


	35. Chapter 35

Time seemed to skid to a halt, stopping so violently that Brian felt dizzy.

 

Paul stepped back away from Roger, brittle smile still fixed in place as he stared at Brian like he was a wild animal about to strike. Next to him, Roger stepped aside as well and shook his hair a bit to cover his face. That was enough to make something crack in Brian’s chest.

 

Roger was scared he would be angry at _him._

He was shrinking away because of some ingrained training in him, trying to appear smaller.

 

Paul had made him go back to his previous ways, he had broken him down and tore down those strengths he had built. Most horrifyingly, Brian had rolled his eyes and called him dramatic.

 

“The burn on your neck?” He whispered and nervous blue eyes flicked up before he nodded. Nausea burned in Brian’s throat and he swallowed convulsively. “And you tried to tell me.”

 

Roger hesitated and that was enough for Brian. His hands clenched into fists and he started towards Paul, ready to slam his fist into that smug face and make him hurt as much as he had hurt Roger. He took one step forward and a blur of blue stopped him, Roger stepping forward to block him from going any further.

 

“Stop Brian,” his voice was trembly and soft. “Just stop.”

 

“Stop?” He hissed, rage making everything blur and harden at the same time. Roger’s face stayed in focus though and he locked in on his worried, nervous expression.

 

“If you hurt him, he’ll go to the police. Going to jail doesn’t help anyone,” Roger whispered, hands still gripping Brian’s arms.

 

Paul straightened up a bit at that, a small smirk quirking at his lips. “And that’s the thing Brian. You hurt me, a person, and you get in trouble with the law. I do the same to him and I’m seen as training him. It’s a good thing and something-“

 

“Shut the fuck up,” Brian snarled, feeling himself tremble.

 

“Oh come on,” Paul rolled his eyes. “He’s a _thing_ Brian. He’s a broken thing that needs structure and to be told what to do. You’re not doing him any favors by letting him think he’s more. Haven’t you noticed how much better behaved he’s been? No more fits or fights. He’s the pretty, quiet creature he’s supposed to be.”

 

At that Brian shoved past Roger and twisted his hands in Paul’s shirt, loving the way his eyes widened in surprised fear. It was just a flash before the smirk returned.

 

“You didn’t even believe him,” he muttered, and Brian found himself gritting his teeth. “So something in you thought the same thing.”

 

Brian shoved him back hard, chest heaving for breath. “Get the fuck out. Go.”

 

With a shrug, Paul slipped out of the room and left them both in silence. Roger remained off to the side, perfectly still with his eyes locked on the floor. He grimaced and flinched when Brian took a step towards him and that made the anger leave in a rush, replaced by pure heartbreak. Tears flooded Brian’s eyes and he let his hands fall to his side.

 

“Roger?” He watched as Roger wrapped his arms around his middle, wings moving to wrap around himself as well. “I’m…I’m so sorry.”

 

“Don’t,” Roger shook his head, staring down at the floor.

 

“Please Roger, let me make this right,” he whispered.

 

The angel seemed to war with himself, a series of expressions flashed across his face. “I told you. I told you he was hurting me and you didn’t do anything.”

 

“I-“

 

“He shocked me whenever he thought I was bad, and you agreed to let him hold the remote. He would keep doing it until I called him sir,” Roger’s voice was hard. “He hit me and threatened me and when I finally got the courage to tell you…you said I was making up lies. You believed him over me so…maybe you do see me as lesser.”

 

“No,” Brian shook his head, tears burning in his eyes.

 

“Then why would you believe him over me?” Roger’s voice cracked and his tightened his jaw.

 

He didn’t have an answer. Any argument he had was weak and horrible. He couldn’t say that Roger’s constant complaining about prejudice was grating on his nerves. He couldn’t say that he was a bit annoyed that Roger couldn’t just accept his place and not rock the boat. He couldn’t say that being surrounded by a constant reminder of evil in this world grated on him, especially when he knew that Roger couldn’t walk away from it.

 

“I don’t know,” he whispered.

 

Then raised voices came from the courtyard and Roger curled in more on himself. He looked like he was fighting everything in him not to run and hide, flinching when the door burst open to reveal a furious Freddie and smirking Paul.

 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Freddie exploded. Paul moved in close behind him and John appeared in the doorway, eyes wide and worried. “You tried to _punch_ Paul?”

 

“After he hit Roger!” Brian snapped and John gasped.

 

“He hit you?” John spoke up, guilt all over his face. “I’m so sorry Roger…I was phoning my parents and-“

 

“It’s alright Deaks,” Roger gave him a wobbly smile and Brian felt his heart break further. John had done right by him, John had actually cared when he hadn’t.

 

“Did you see it? Did you see him hitting him?” Freddie’s eyes narrowed. “Or was it another one of Roger’s lies?”

 

Roger seemed to fold in on himself, shrinking before their eyes. Brian felt himself shaking with rage and snarled. “Just because he’s sleeping with you doesn’t mean he’s not lying to you.”

 

“I could say the same to you,” Freddie spat back.

 

John stepped forward, raising his hands a bit. “Stop this, it’s becoming poisonous.”

 

“Why would I lie Fred?” Roger finally spoke up, eyes nearly hidden behind his blond fringe.

 

Freddie seethed, shifting from foot to foot as he thought. “You don’t like Paul because he treats you the way angels were supposed to be treated. Face it Roger, you’re not human. We _own_ you. I could sell you right now if I wanted.”

 

The room went perfectly silent.

 

Roger finally looked up, eyes brighter than ever, and Freddie seemed to realize what he said. “No…wait, I-“

 

“You’re right, I’m not human and you could sell me,” Roger’s voice was blank, and Freddie shrank back. “You could get a drummer with a real name, not just one they picked out. You could get a drummer with actual experience who can read a book and write more than just their name.”

 

“Rog-“ Freddie looked _shattered_.

 

“And with my past and my…broken wing and whatnot I won’t be able to be sold again. They would keep me in a little cell maybe or…or they would just inject me and that would be it. They’d cremate me with the rest of the undesirable angels and no one would know I was even on this earth…and you would forget me too,” Roger barely spoke over a whisper but Freddie looked like he had been sucker punched.

 

“I didn’t mean that,” Freddie gasped out, looking between them all with a hopeless expression. “Roger, you’re my friend…my brother.”

 

“I’m your pet according to him,” Roger nodded to Paul whose smirk was fading. “And if you’re really happy with the person you’re becoming being around him then…then I’ll be okay. I’ll do what you want. I’ll be what he says I am.”

 

With their eyes on him Freddie seemed to freeze. His eyes flicked between them all before settling on Paul. “He’s right.”

 

Paul let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “Seriously? I’m not brainwashing you or anything Freddie…I care for you so much and want you to be the rockstar you are fucking destined to be. He’ll hold you back. You know he will.”

 

“You’re better than that,” John whispered, drawing Freddie’s attention. “You know that.”

 

There was a pause before Freddie’s shoulders pulled back and he turned to face Paul. “I think you need to leave.”

 

“What?” Paul blinked at him.

 

“You’re poisonous Paul…you’re going to make us rot from within and…you just need to go,” he nodded to the door and Paul gaped, looking between them all.

 

“Fine. Forgive me for trying to help,” he huffed. “You won’t get anywhere pretending that your little pet is a person. This stupid fluffy attitude is only going to set you back.”

 

“It’s better than losing ourselves in the process,” Brian watched as Roger’s wings pulled back and his chin raised.

 

Paul rolled his eyes and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. The four of them stood in silence before Roger pointed to the door as well. “Okay…get out.”

 

“What?” Brian blinked, sure he had heard them wrong.

 

“This is where my room is and I want you out,” he nodded towards the door again. “I want to just go to sleep.”

 

Silence again.

 

“You don’t have to stay out here. You can share mine or…fuck, you can take Paul’s,” Brian took a step forward and tried to put on a reassuring smile. However, Roger stepped back and shook his head.

 

“I don’t want to. I want to sleep where I feel safe,” Roger crossed his arms. “Or are you going to tell me that you know what’s best? Are you going to tell me what to do?”

 

“No!” Brian shook his head and both Freddie and John copied him.

 

“Good…then have a good night,” his tone left no room for argument as they filed out of the recording studio. It broke Brian’s heart to leave him alone but he knew that rebuilding what they had would take time.

 

He just wished it didn’t feel like they were lightyears away from each other, that he was able to just take Roger’s hand and things would be okay again.


	36. Chapter 36

Things were awkward.

 

Brian saw it in the way Freddie shrank back around Roger, unsure of how to react around him. It was like he was terrified of saying or doing the wrong thing, of making this worse than it was. They sat around in tense silence, not recording or writing but just trying to get used to being in the same room.

 

He hated every second of it.

 

Somehow, Brian had hoped that there would be some easy fix. He thought there would be a few apologies and hugs and then he could have Roger back in his arms again. Instead, the angel regarded them with a frostiness that never seemed to thaw.

 

At breakfast he ate his eggs quietly, sometimes whispering to John while giving them a _disgusted_ look every time they tried to speak.

 

If they ever did go into the recording studio he would just tap away at his drums every time someone tried to start a conversation, quickly halting it.

 

At night, he would lock himself away in his little cupboard without a word.

 

The silence was grating. Brian would have honestly preferred screaming fights to this slow building tension around them. Clearly, Freddie felt the same if his twitchy responses were anything to go by. It was just a matter of time before that powder keg went off.

 

“For God sakes Roger!” Freddie finally blew up, nearly knocking over their coffee one morning. “What can we do? How can we make this right?”

 

The angel looked up from his magazine and raised his eyebrows. “Whatever do you mean?”

 

Damn, he was going to make Freddie say it. Maybe it was cowardice but Brian remained quiet, sipping at his cup.

 

“I’ve said I was sorry, you have no idea how sorry I am! I hate that I let that snake in and defended him,” Freddie’s eyes were bright and his voice shook. “I wish I could go back in time and stop it from happening! Just…tell me what I can do. I want to make this right.”

 

Roger put his magazine down and threaded his slender fingers together, blue eyes narrowing. He stared for such a long time that Freddie shrank back, clearly feeling smaller than ever.

 

“Shave your head.”

 

Silence. Brian gaped, staring at Roger whose gaze didn’t even falter. Next to him Freddie made a wounded sound, dark eyes wider than ever. “What?”

 

“You want to show how sorry you are? Shave your head,” Roger cocked his head to the side.

 

“Oh…but we don’t have the tools…otherwise I would do it,” he mumbled.

 

“I have a pair of scissors,” John piped up. “Then you have a razor so it’ll be easy. We chop it off and shave down the rest.”

 

Freddie blinked owlishly and Brian kept his mouth shut, not wanting to be a part of this conversation in the least. The last thing he would want was for Roger to extend to him the same punishment. Somehow he was worried that his would be even worse.

 

“…okay,” Freddie nodded, face hardening. He got to his feet and started towards the bathroom, closely followed by the rest of them. Roger walked slowly behind them, face blank and steady. They arrived and John quickly dug through his things, holding up the scissors for Freddie to take.

 

Their frontman took the scissors and looked nervously at them in the mirror, letting the blades hover slightly. “Roger, I am so truly sorry.”

 

“I am aware,” Roger deadpanned, leaning against the doorframe. When he didn’t say anything further Freddie’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

 

“I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am.”

 

“Mmhmm,” Roger nodded.

 

Freddie lifted the scissors and gave Roger a pleading look in the mirror. The angel just nodded and he sighed, closed his eyes and snipped off a long lock near his face.

 

“Alright, that’s fine,” Roger spoke up as the hair fell into the sink. “You’re forgiven.”

 

Freddie gaped at him, scissors still hovering over the inch long tuft of hair now jutting out of his scalp. “What?”

 

“You’re forgiven,” Roger said slowly. “But I do need to talk to you all.”

 

Clearly in a state of shock, Freddie followed them into the sitting room. His fingers played with the comically short sprig of hair and his mouth hung open. Roger pointed to the couch and waited for them all to sit, Brian moving quickly so he didn’t get the focus of Roger’s anger.

 

“We need to have rules,” Roger stood before them, wings slightly expanded to make himself seem even larger. “Rules about me.”

 

“Of course Roger,” Brian spoke up, shrinking a bit when the angel didn’t even glance his way.

 

“None of you get to make a decision about my life. Even though you technically _own me_ ,” he shot a look to Freddie who winced like he had been shot. “I make every decision. I don’t have to ask for permission or your blessing, understood?”

 

They all nodded.

 

“I am a full member of this band and my opinions will be heard. None of you get to make a choice because it is what is best for me,” the angel crossed his arms. “And you have to fight. None of this ‘just lie down and take it’ attitude. I know how things are supposed to be, I fucking lived it. If we want things to be the way we want them to be we have to fight for it.”

 

They nodded silently.

 

“So, you don’t get to tell me to accept being treated as less. You don’t get to tell me not to make a fuss. I’ll make a fucking fuss if someone treats me wrong and I expect you to back me up,” Roger lifted his chin. “I’ll never be treated less again…but I need you to help. You have privilege and power in this world that I don’t and things won’t change without you speaking up. I just…I want you to fight for me. I want you to see me as someone worth fighting for.”

 

“Absolutely,” John breathed and Brian nodded, throat tight.

 

“And my song gets to go on the B-side of the album…no matter if you like it or not,” Roger raised his eyebrows before giving a sharp nod.

 

“And things can go back to how they were?” Brian asked softly, finally drawing Roger’s attention to him. For a moment he was breathless at the fire in those blue eyes.

 

“No. I’m not going back to that,” his voice came out hard. “It’s going to be better than that. If…this…works in that new world then so be it but I am not going to be in any relationship where I have to fight to be heard and treated with respect.”

 

“Understood,” Brian nodded, feeling the first flicker of hope in his chest. He would do anything to prove himself to Roger, to prove that he could be worthy of being loved by someone so strong.

 

He just hoped Roger would be generous enough to even think about giving him another chance.


	37. Chapter 37

The sun had begun to dip below the tree line when Brian pulled on his coat.

 

His nightly walks were something he started shortly after getting to Ridge Farm. He needed fresh air after having to stay in the tense house, wanting to leave that slightly toxic atmosphere. Now, he realized that he was leaving Roger alone with Paul during that time and it made him feel a little ill.

 

As usual, he started down the side of the house following the small hill towards the little river. The air had a slight nip to it, a small chill, but he actually liked it. Brian was able to close his eyes and lean into the breeze as he walked.

 

The hill led to a stream which led to a small clearing that backed onto another hill. He had barely made it three steps into the clearing when he saw a flash of blue near the top of the hill. Roger was sitting there quietly, wings slightly outstretched so the feathers ruffled in the breeze.

 

At first, Brian wanted to scurry back into the trees. Maybe he was a bit of a coward, but he could maybe back off before he was noticed.

 

“You going to come sit with me?” Roger called out and he winced. “Or would you rather I pretend I didn’t see you?”

 

“No,” Brian mumbled, shoved his hands in his pockets as he trudged up the hill. As he walked he could practically feel Roger’s eyes boring into him even from behind his oversized aviators. He sat down heavily next to the angel and fidgeted a bit with the sleeves of his coat.

 

“I wrote a song,” Roger spoke up, turning to look at the view of the sun setting. “It’s about a car.”

 

That was enough to startle a laugh out of Brian. He was expecting to hear an angry sound about betrayal and heartbreak. Having it be as simple as a car was beyond bizarre. Next to him Roger cracked a smile as well.

 

“A car?”

 

“Yeah, I’m going to call it ‘I’m in Love with My Car,’” Roger grinned. “John has been letting me play around with his van a bit and I’ve really started enjoying them. They’re complicated and fascinating. They don’t talk back or…it’s just all so simple.”

 

The silence returned. Brian felt his smile fade a bit and placed his hands on his knees, squeezing a bit. “Yeah…I guess it is. Will you sing me a bit?”

 

Roger raised his eyebrows but shrugged. “The machine of a dream, such a clean machine. With the pistons a pumpin’, and the hubcaps all gleam. When I’m holding your wheel, all I hear is your gear. With my hand on your grease gun, mmm it’s like a disease son. I’m in love with my car, gotta feel for my automobile.”

 

He faded off, a now familiar look of low confidence flashing across his face. Brian leaned forward, brow furrowed in thought. “Obviously this is going to be drum heavy but maybe some guitar riffs? Some high screaming parts?”

 

“That’s what I was thinking!” Roger just about lit up. “Fred can play the piano too! It’s going to be real rock and roll. That’s what I want.”

 

“I like it,” Brian grinned, and Roger beamed at him a bit. “A bit weirdly sexual about a car but it’s good.”

 

 The angel nodded, looking satisfied. “I feel bad that I’ve derailed recording.”

 

“Don’t. We’ve all played a part in what happened,” he mumbled and Roger sighed. “I talked to Miami a bit earlier and he managed to get us a few more weeks here. He had a few choice words about Paul as well. Plus…I was able to write a song as well.”

 

“What’s yours about?” Roger pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on them.

 

Brian hesitated. The song he had written had been something incredibly personal. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted it on the album at all. “It’s about people who are far away from the people they love and want nothing more than to be with them.”

 

A moment passed before Roger pushed his glasses up, mussing his hair. His blue eyes fixed on Brian and he couldn’t look away. “You love me?”

 

“More than anything,” Brian said as quickly as he could.

 

“Why?”

 

That wasn’t a question he was expecting. There was an answer at the tip of his tongue but he knew it wasn’t the one Roger wanted. He didn’t want to hear the generic answer that just scraped the surface. What could he say?

 

He loved Roger because waking up next to him made him feel safe and warm.

 

He loved Roger because he had never met someone who was so kind, so loving.

 

He loved Roger because the angel reminded him every day that life was worth living.

 

“You make me a better person,” he finally whispered. “You teach me something new everyday…you challenge me…I know that before I was supporting you on the most basic level. You deserve more than that. You deserve to be someone who fights for you regardless of the consequences.”

 

“Could you do that?” Roger asked. “If it meant losing shows or contracts or…or the respect of people. Could you do that?”

 

“I could,” Brian responded, watching as Roger’s shoulders relaxed. “I was a coward before but now I’m on your side completely.”

 

Roger nodded slowly and turned his gaze back to the rapidly setting sun. He was quiet for a moment before sliding his hand under Brian’s and squeezing. “I felt alone.”

 

“I know,” Brian’s throat felt tight. “We were stupid. Things changed with the tour and the albums and…we weren’t expecting to deal with that. Maybe we got a bit dragged down with all of it and lost sight of what was really important.”

 

Roger hummed and nodded. “And what is that?”

 

“We finally have a foothold in history…our music is being listened to by people all over the world. Seven Seas of Rhye and Fairy King were just the beginning,” he rubbed his thumb over Roger’s knuckles. “You’re doing something that no angel has ever done before. You’re going to…inspire others. You’re going to make people see you how you really are. You’re going to change the world Roger and that can’t happen if we hold you back. We won’t ever fail you again.”

 

Roger tilted his head down a bit so his sunglasses fell back over his eyes. “I love you too. You’re kind and caring and…I was scared when you sided with Paul. It made me think you would only take my side if it was convenient to you and that was terrifying.”

 

“I know, I’m sorry,” Brian shook his head, heart clenching.

 

“And I know it’s hard. I know that being with me means being with a lot of baggage. I have nightmares and I don’t know some things but…I’m trying. You’re helping me,” he squeezed their hands. “I’ll never be alright you know. I’ll always have this fear lingering but…I’m not scared with you. When I’m with you I know I’m safe and loved and that is something I haven’t felt in a long, long, long time.”

 

“I promise that I will fight for you. I will do anything in my power to make sure that the world sees just how amazing you are,” Brian pressed their combined hands against his heart. “And I want you promise that you’ll tell me if someone is threatening that freedom. We’re in this together.”

 

“It’s a promise,” Roger gave him a wobbly smile.

 

They sat in silence for a long time just watching the sunset, hands clasped between them. It was nice feeling all that tense awkwardness start to melt away. It felt like things were finally returning to how they were and more.

 

“We should go back,” Brian murmured as the last light started fading. With a groan, Roger got to his feet and pulled Brian up after him. They walked back to the house, Roger bumping his wing against Brian’s shoulder.

 

“You still going to sleep in the cupboard?” Brian asked.

 

“It’s cozier than you’d imagine,” Roger laughed, wings catching the wind a bit and pulling him back. “Plus, I hate the curtains in your room.”

 

“They are hideous,” Brian chuckled as they turned the corner to walk past the pool. “But…you’re still angry.”

 

The smile faded and Roger looked contemplative. He paused and turned to face Brian, making the older man stop as well. He pulled his sunglasses off and stared at Brian long enough that his heart began to race.

 

“I was mad,” Roger said softly, placing a hand on Brian’s chest. He paused, brow furrowing, and then a sly smile spread across his face. A light push was all it took before icy water stole away Brian’s breath. He kicked and clawed until he broke the surface, sputtering and coughing.

 

Laughing blue eyes met his own as Roger grinned. “I’m not mad anymore.”

 

“You ass,” Brian choked out, gripping the edge of the pool. He played annoyed for just a moment before he laughed as well. “You might as well help me out then.”

 

“It’s the least I could do,” Roger giggled. He reached down and gripped Brian’s hand, realizing a second too late that it was a terrible mistake. He shrieked as Brian pulled him into the pool as well. An explosion of water came up around him as his wings flapped wildly.

 

Roger looked like an angry cat when he finally emerged, glaring at Brian. “That was evil.”

 

“That was fair,” Brian smirked back and got a wall of water shoved at him from two strong wings. This quickly started a full on splash war, water flying as they laughed and wrestled. Brian finally managed to grab Roger around the waist and pulled him in close, breathing hard as they smiled at each other.

 

Roger surged forward and connected their lips together, smiling into the kiss. It was short and chaste but made something warm bloom in Brian’s chest. They pulled apart and he couldn’t help but grin goofily.

 

“I was scared that it would be different,” Roger breathed before kissing him again. “We should get out before we freeze to death.”

 

They climbed out of the pool, Brian squawking with surprise when Roger fluffed and shook his wings causing water to fly everywhere. He took Brian’s hand and pulled him towards the recording studio. He tossed a towel towards Brian and stripped off his own soaked shirt.

 

“You can sleep in here if you want,” Roger tossed over his shoulder, surprising Brian. He changed quickly into soft joggers and pulled open the little door to the cupboard.

 

This was a challenge.

 

Roger was wanting to see how he would react.

 

“Sure,” Brian nodded and Roger raised his eyebrows.

 

“But no funny business,” the angel raised a finger and he put his hand over his heart.

 

As soon as they were mostly dry and in warm clothes they climbed into the cupboard. The small space was barely big enough for Roger and his wings and quickly became cramped as Brian tried to squeeze in. They managed to get comfortable on the blanket pile with Roger laying partly on top of him.

 

“This is…cozy,” Brian mumbled and Roger laughed.

 

It was small and cramped but Brian found himself having the best sleep in a long time with Roger in his arms and fairy lights twinkling above him.


	38. Chapter 38

It was strange rehearsing for a tour again.

 

The remaining time at Ridge Farm had been a time of healing. They spent their nights laughing and playing Scrabble, enjoying the time together without the constant cloud of Paul and Ray. The songs they wrote were deeply personal, songs about loss and hopelessness. The resulting album was perfect, a work of art.

 

Roger almost didn’t want to tour with the songs they had written. It was odd playing Bohemian Rhapsody when he knew it was written about the hopelessness he had felt with Paul and Ray. It was odd singing along to ’39 when Brian wrote it about how far apart they had felt. It was odd playing You’re My Best Friend when he knew John was lying through his teeth about it being about some old girlfriend.

 

So, they were very strategic about what songs they chose for their setlist. They chose songs that they could have fun with and that would spread the message they had agreed on. This would be the time they could be free to show that Roger wasn’t just a prop.

 

The space Miami had managed to secure for them was large and spacious, giving them plenty of room to spread out. He had truly outdone himself in the role as manager. The five month tour of the UK, America, Japan and Australia stunned them all and the interviews he had lined up was mindblowing. They had thought they were supported by Foster records but that was nothing compared to Miami.

 

When they arrived at the rehearsal space it was already bustling with activity. Roadies and techs were working on the instruments and microphones, trying to get everything hooked up. It was a little overwhelming to realize that everything was just for them, not for anyone else.

 

Then, Roger noticed that the gong had been placed directly behind his kit.

 

He started towards the risers when Brian took his elbow, eyes worried. “You want me to come with you?”

 

“No,” Roger shook his head. “If their first impression of me is that I need you to fight my battles they’ll never respect me.”

 

He looked concerns but let go of his elbow. “Let me know if you need us. John is ready to come at them with claws and teeth you know.”

 

The youngest member of their band was watching them carefully from where his own roadies were showing him the bass set up. His eyes were narrowed, and Roger felt a rush of fondness for him.

 

A few people stopped to glance at him as he made his way up to the riser, frowning at the overly large gong. It had been suspended from a rafter in the ceiling, just a short distance behind the stool. He turned towards the dark haired man who was on the ground tuning the bass drum.

 

“The gong needs to be off to the side,” he spoke up, trying to quash the anxiety that always rose up when he spoke to a human he didn’t know.

 

The man stared at him. “Shit, you’re an actual angel. I thought you were just wearing fake wings for the show.”

 

“Yeah…real angel,” he made his wings move a bit. “So…the gong.”

 

“They didn’t tell me I would be working with an angel,” the man frowned, brushing back his long hair to show a receding hairline.

 

Roger blinked at him, feeling a flicker of irritation. “You aren’t working _with_ an angel; you’re working _for_ an angel. You’re a bloody idiot if you thought that I was faking all of this.”

 

The man’s jaw dropped and for a split second Roger was afraid he had gone too far. As soon as that thought sprung into his mind he tried to push it away. His name was on the billing, he should have things the way he wanted.

 

“You’re right,” the man laughed loudly, getting to his feet and holding out his hand. “Sorry I was an ass. When Mr. Beach told me that angels would be on staff but I thought they would just be like…anyway, I’m Chris.”

 

“Roger,” he shook the other man’s hand.

 

“And that was really you playing those drums?” Chris cocked his head to the side, eyebrows raising in surprise when Roger nodded. “You’re damn good.”

 

“I know,” Roger grinned. “Now about that gong.”

 

“Oh! Yeah, yeah,” Chris turned to face the gong, brow creasing in confusion. “What’s wrong with it?”

 

“My wings will knock into it,” Roger sat on the stool and extended his wings, holding up a hand when they kept brushing the metal. “It’s got to be off to the side.”

 

“Gotcha,” Chris squinted up at the gong. “I’ll get a guy and move that over in a second. Need anything else?”

 

“No…that’s fine.”

 

“Sounds good boss,” Chris waved down another roadie and went off to find a ladder.

 

Something warm flooded his chest at the title. Boss. _Boss._ He was someone with authority here. He was someone to be respected and admired, the person they were all striving to make look good. It was an amazing feeling and one he wanted to chase for as long as he could.

 

In no time the gong was moved aside and Roger got to sit down and work on the kit. Chris was good at his job, that was for sure, and he took meticulous notes as to what Roger liked and didn’t like. They fell into sync quickly and were well into talking about the show when Freddie bounced onto the riser, completely fake smile on his face.

 

“Hello there my dears,” his voice was tight and high. “Everything going alright over here?”

 

As much as Roger appreciated the new attention spent to making sure he was alright, he was getting a bit annoyed. “Totally fine Fred.”

 

“You sure?” He glanced over Freddie’s shoulder to see Brian watching on nervously.

 

He didn’t feel like he had to pretend here. He wasn’t having to hold back because he was afraid of costing them everything. This was a place where he was in control.

 

“Completely,” Roger nodded and Freddie relaxed. “Freddie, this is my tech Chris. Chris, this overbearing mother hen with the bad haircut is Freddie.”

 

“Mother hen my ass,” Freddie mumbled and squinted a bit at Chris. “You’re Crystal now.”

 

“Crystal?”

 

“We have tour names,” Freddie said very matter-of-factly. “And you’re Crystal. Mainly because if you hurt Roger I’ll make sure you shatter like a cheap glass.”

 

Crystal blinked and nodded nervously, watching as Freddie gave him a sweet smile and breezed off to chat with John.

 

“Is he normally that overprotective?” He breathed, dark eyes wide.

 

Roger rolled his eyes and tapped out a light rhythm on the snare. “We had a pretty shit situation with our last label and manager. I think he still feels a bit guilty about all that. But…we’re out of that situation and we have more power here. People don’t get to just…treat us how they want.”

 

Understanding flashed through Crystal’s eyes and he nodded sadly. “So…Death on Two Legs really was about your old manager then?”

 

“Oh, we never said that. He happened to assume it was and tried to sue us so…take from that what you will,” Roger laughed, twirling the drumstick.

 

“And the haircut?”

 

“Freddie said something really vile to me. It’s his penance,” Roger shrugged. “Hair grows fast. He cut his bangs a bit so you wouldn’t even know.”

 

Crystal actually looked impressed. “That’s amazing. I’ve gotta say boss, I think we’re going to get along just fine.”

 

“I think so too,” Roger smiled. Years of having to quash down hope of better things had conditioned him to want to expect the worst. But this…this might just be the beginning of a new phase in their lives. This could be the beginning of the life he had only dreamed of.


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all you Deacury lovers ;)

The piano was one of Freddie’s happy places. His fingers just seemed to belong on the keys, stretching to lightly tap at them and the music just flowed like it was an extension of himself. In the dark of the rehearsal space, in the quiet of the empty concert hall, Freddie felt like he was truly himself.

 

“That’s beautiful,” a soft voice interrupted, and the note turned sour. He turned to see Roger smiling at him, hair a bit damp from the shower he took after their rehearsal. “A bit more upbeat than Bohemian.”

 

“That’s the plan,” Freddie shrugged lightly. “Maybe with a bit of gospel thrown in there as well.”

 

“Gospel?” Roger tipped his head to the side and started walking towards him, the bottoms of his wings lightly trailing along the stage. “I would have thought that opera was odd enough. No reggae? Maybe polka?”

 

“That’ll be the next one,” he couldn’t help but grin as the angel laughed, scooting over when Roger sat on the bench next to him.

 

Ever since the situation with Paul and those evil words he had spat out things had been strange. Roger seemed to have lost the trust they had worked so hard to establish, and Freddie couldn’t really blame him.

 

“You put your fingers here,” Freddie’s hand hovered over Roger’s for a moment before the blond nodded. He carefully maneuvered his fingers until they were resting on the keys properly. “And then you just…follow me.”

 

He played the first couple notes of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and smiled as Roger copied him. It was constantly surprising to him how quickly Roger was able to catch on. God, if he had been given proper training and encouraged to practice his gift from an early age, he would be a force to be reckoned with…well, more than he was now.

 

They just played together for a bit in the silence of the concert hall. The roadies had finished prepping for the show the next night and had gone out drinking, but Freddie never could relax before a show. Clearly Roger felt the same by the set of his shoulders.

 

“I’m looking forward to the US tour,” Roger piped up, lightly playing the keys and scrunching his nose at the sour notes. “California will be fun, I’ve never been to the beach.”

 

“We had beaches in Zanzibar, my family went all the time,” Freddie copied the key strokes and smiled. “Well, we did before all the fighting started. It was nice walking through the water.”

 

Roger nodded, still focused on the keys. “How old were you when your family fled?”

 

“Well we left in ’64 so it was only eleven years ago. I was seventeen,” Freddie felt something shiver through him, remembering the hushed panic as they packed up and left everything they knew. “But we got out and we were safe.”

 

“Sometimes I feel like you’re the only one who has any idea what life is like for people like me,” the piano playing continued lightly. “You know what it’s like to be hated for no reason other than how you were born. I’ve heard people say things about you and spit curses at you. That’s why it hurt so much when you said what you said.”

 

Freddie didn’t know what to say, his own fingers pausing on the keys.

 

“I know you didn’t mean what you said. I know that Paul was really good at twisting things and making you believe them. I know that,” Roger still played but his wing lightly pressed against Freddie’s back, feeling almost like a hug. “I forgive you, really I do.”

 

The relief that crashed over Freddie was overwhelming for a moment. Roger’s offhanded comment back in the farm hadn’t been nearly as calming as this. He hadn’t known how much he needed to hear those words until he did.

 

“Thank you,” he whispered, forcing the words past his throat.

 

“But I want you to do something for me,” blue eyes flicked up to meet his.

 

“I’m not cutting any more of my hair,” a wide smile spread across the angel’s face as he laughed. The tension faded a bit and he felt his own body relax. He started playing the piano again, tapping out a cherry tune.

 

“No…sorry about that by the way,” Roger was still smiling. “I honestly didn’t think you would go through with it. I was touched, really. No, I have a question that I want you to answer with absolute truthfulness.”

 

“Okay,” Freddie nodded.

 

“Why won’t you try a relationship with John?” His fingers pressed down and the note clanged.

 

Freddie turned to stare at Roger, meeting laughing blue eyes. “What in the world are you talking about?”

 

“I’m not stupid Fred,” Roger grinned widely, playing a jaunty tune and nodding at himself. “I see the way you look at him.”

 

He could feel his cheeks burning as he struggled to find words to say. Clearly, he had not been as subtle as he hoped. Of course he noticed John with his kind eyes and easy laugh. He adored the younger man’s sense of humor and quick wit.

 

“He doesn’t feel the same,” Freddie murmured.

 

“He does, he told me ages ago,” the angel answered, nudging his shoulder. “Who the hell do you think You’re My Best Friend is about?”

 

Something warm unfurled in his chest.

 

“I just…he’s young and I don’t want to be the guy who takes advantage of him,” Freddie winced at his own words. “I don’t want to mess things up and…mess him up. Does he really want to start something and have to hide from the media? He could settle down with some sweet girl and start a family.”

 

“That’s not what he wants,” Roger turned to face him fully. “It might be hard, you might have to hide but…people will be okay. They’ll see you as two people who care for each other. Brian and I will never have that. I’ve seen the articles where they call me the pet of the band. That’s all I’ll ever be.”

 

“Rog-“

 

“So, it doesn’t make sense that you have someone who cares about you and you won’t go for it. Being able to love someone is a gift that not everyone gets. I never thought I’d get that gift, it always seemed like something that I wasn’t allowed to have but…it happened for me,” a small, soft smile quirked at his lips. “Don’t let fear hold you back. You deserve to find somebody to love.”

 

With that he stood, letting his wing sweep along the top of Freddie’s head and muss up his hair. The frontman let out a squawk and batted his wing away. The angel darted away, grin on his face, and walked off stage leaving Freddie alone again.

 

John had feelings for him?

 

The very idea made his throat grow tight and his chest grow warm. He wasn’t stupid, he had noticed the looks John shot him. At first, he felt like he was taking advantage of the younger man. John was only eighteen and looked up to him. Then all the mess with Tim started and those feelings were pushed aside for Roger’s safety. All they cared about was making sure he was alright.

 

Paul was a mistake. Freddie knew that he was a mistake. The promise of fame and fortune had been a bit blinding and Paul’s sweet words made it easy. He was a bit embarrassed by the whole thing, by the person Paul had made him into.

 

“Fred? Roger said you wanted to talk?”

 

Damn nosey angel.

 

“He did, did he?” Freddie huffed and turned on the bench to face John. The younger man clearly had also showered after their rehearsal, hair especially soft looking. Nerves made something in his stomach twist.

 

John nodded and walked forward, the lowered lighting making his eyes seem especially bright. “He just kind of skipped up to me and said that you had something to talk about.”

 

For a moment, Freddie wanted to throttle Roger.

 

But…maybe he should take this chance.

 

“Yeah, I do,” Freddie rubbed his palms on his pants and stood up. “I wanted to talk about…um…shit…”

 

John frowned, cocking his head to the side. The flicker of hope in his eyes was obvious and spurred him on.

 

“I feel like I’m going a bit crazy,” he huffed out a laugh. “Like my brain is underwater, you know? I keep trying to get out from under and…nothing I do is right. I thought I was doing the right thing pushing you away. I thought I was doing the right thing with Paul…”

 

John’s face fell a bit and he frowned deeper. “What are you saying Freddie?”

 

“I have feelings for you,” the words came out in a rush and John blinked. “Like…real feelings and I thought I was helping you by not acting on those feelings.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“And I know that you felt similarly, you aren’t that good at hiding,” the younger man’s cheeks burned. “But I wanted more for you than…me I guess.”

 

“More than you?” John’s voice was hushed.

 

“I didn’t want you to settle. You’re kind and good and…you should be with some sweet girl having babies and whatever,” he sighed. “We would never have the privacy we would want…do you really want that?”

 

“I want you,” John said softly. “And I’m not settling for anything. It’s worth anything we have to go through. It’s worth the struggles and pain. I’m ready to try…I want to.”

 

He couldn’t help the smile on his face, feeling almost giddy. John mirrored his expression and they both laughed softly. “So, go out with me? We can grab a drink or something.”

 

“That sounds perfect,” John smiled shyly. “Roger planned this all out, didn’t he?”

 

“Oh, for sure,” Freddie shook his head fondly. 


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's a Christmas chapter! I hope all you beautiful people have a wonderful holiday!

“Do angels celebrate Christmas?” Brian asked, curled up in bed next to Roger, his fingers gently petting the downy feathers at the base of his wings.

 

“What?” Roger pulled himself out of the daze he had fallen into.

 

“Christmas. Is it a holiday you celebrate?” Brian smiled at the sleepy look on Roger’s face.

 

“Do we celebrate a man in a red suit coming to our home and leaving us presents if we were good boys and girls? Believe me, in the kennels and with Tim I most definitely did not get presents if I was a good boy,” Roger stretched a bit. “I’m sure there were holidays that my kind celebrated in Rhye but they have long since been forgotten.”

 

That hit Brian hard. He had never realized what a role his own culture played in his life. The little traditions and things he celebrated with his family had always just been part of who he was. He couldn’t imagine not being allowed to honor his traditions until they were just gone.

 

“Christmas isn’t just presents,” he poked Roger in the side. “We should celebrate our way.”

 

“I assumed you and John were going to go visit your families. I was just going to stay with Freddie,” Roger frowned at him.

 

“We have a show on Christmas Eve. I’ll go visit my parents after the holidays when travel isn’t stupidly expensive,” Brian smiled. “But my mum would take me to London to see the city when all the lights were up. We should just explore a bit…maybe get a snack or two.”

 

Roger’s face twisted a bit in distaste. He knew how hard it was for the angel to go out in public, hating the stares and touches. People would just reach out and tug at his wings, not even caring who was on the other end.

 

“Or we can just stay in and watch Miracle on 34th street,” he gave him an out, knowing that the tour was draining on them all. Maybe Roger just wanted a quiet night in, just the two of them.

 

“I could go for a walk,” he said softly. “Plus, I can wear Freddie’s stupid big coat.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

Roger nodded, eyes bright. “Can we go now?”

 

And that’s how they found themselves walking through a Christmas market, alight with sparkling lights. Roger was bundled up in the oversized fur coat, his wings tucked underneath them, and had on a bright blue hat. Brian couldn’t help but think how adorable he was. His eyes flicked around the busy market and he pressed himself tight to Brian’s side.

 

He didn’t need to be so nervous though. No one had caught on to the fact that he was an angel yet. People smiled pleasantly at him and nodded, shopkeepers called him sir, and no one really gave him a second glance.

 

“Come on,” Brian tugged at his hand and pulled him towards a mulled wine stand. He got them both a steaming cup and grinned as Roger’s eyes fluttered closed at the first sip.

 

“So…this is what it is like being human,” Roger mumbled under his breath.

 

For a moment, Brian panicked over a response. The words that bubbled to the front of his brain  were reassurances and talk about how Roger was free but…that wasn’t true was it? He had to just take a breath and pause and realize that Roger was right, he was incredibly privileged.

 

So, instead of empty reassurances, he just wrapped his arm around Roger’s shoulders and pulled him in to kiss his temple. They continued walking through the stalls, pausing to look at the trinkets. A small band was nearby playing Christmas songs and it all felt a bit like they were living in a movie.

 

Then, they got to the tree.

 

A nativity scene had been set up, beautiful in the sparkling details. Off to the side, amidst the serene statues was an angel. He was dressed in thin cotton robes, lined in gold, and a sparkling halo sat on top of his head. He shivered in the cold but continued to pose.

 

Roger froze in place, eyes locked on the angel. A thousand expressions flickered across his face before it became set in determination. His strides were long and sure as he walked to a nearby mincemeat pie stand and purchased a steaming hot pie. Once he had the bag, he walked up to the angel.

 

“Hello,” he said softly, frowning when the angel didn’t even glance his way. “I have something warm for you to eat.”

 

The angel’s face didn’t betray how he was feeling at all. He just continued staring dead ahead and Brian saw how Roger’s face fell.

 

“It’s fresh and hot,” he offered the little bag to the angel again and finally the angel broke character.

 

“I can’t sir,” his voice even shook with cold.

 

Brian wanted to pull him away, wanted to take him away from the heartbreaking scene in front of him. He hated that Roger saw someone from his own kind being treated like a prop, a decoration. But, he knew that Roger needed to do this. He needed to feel like he could make a difference, that he wasn’t completely helpless in this world.

 

“Do you know who I am?” Roger asked gently and the angel’s eyes flicked across his face. “I’m a friend. I’m…I’m like you.”

 

A frown creased the angel’s face and then he lit up with recognition. “You’re…you’re…I know you.”

 

“Yeah,” Roger grinned and handed over the mince pie, this time it was taken. “I’m playing a bit incognito.”

 

The angel chuckled, hands wrapped around the bag clearly enjoying the warmth. He glanced towards Brian and relaxed only when Roger nodded at him. “Thank you very much for the food.”

 

“Anytime,” Roger moved in front of the angel, his large coat blocking the angel out of sight while he ate the pie. They spoke softly while he ate, voices too quiet for Brian to hear but he didn’t need to. This was something between two angels, they didn’t need him.

 

“I need to get back,” the angel spoke, smiling softly when Roger took the empty bag from him. “But thank you, thank you both. This means more than you could ever know.”

 

“I’m sorry we couldn’t do more,” Roger took his cold hand and squeezed. “I wish we could.”

 

“I understand. It was an honor just meeting you,” the angel finally gave them both a wide smile, looking years younger. “You know what they call you right? What we say to each other in the servant quarters and whisper when we pass each other? We call you the Fairy King.”

 

“What?” Roger let out a bark of disbelieving laughter.

 

“They say that you’re the king reincarnated, that you’ll bring us freedom,” the angel’s eyes were bright. “And I agree. You’re saving us, you’re going to help us.”

 

Roger stared at him for a long moment before shaking his head. “No…I’m just an angel who got lucky.”

 

“The songs you sing are a rallying cry. You’re starting something beautiful and all the humans who…who fight you and try to tear you down are scared,” the angel’s eyes went hard. “They’re scared that you’ll start a revolution and they should be.”

 

There was a long moment where the two angels just stared at each other before Roger reached forward and took his hand. “I’m no hero. I’m no revolutionary.”

 

“You think that now but you’re wrong,” the angel smiled. “You’ll see.”

 

Roger squeezed his hand and gave him a shaky smile. They said soft goodbyes and Roger reached out to take Brian’s hand, pulling him along the path away from the nativity scene. His expression was unreadable and Brian hesitated to ask.

 

“You okay?” he finally ventured.

 

“He’s…he’s fucking stupid,” Roger stuttered out, surprising Brian. “Fucking stupid to think that I could make a difference, that I’m the goddamn Fairy King or the…whatever.”

 

Brian squeezed Roger’s hand, feeling how it trembled in his grip. “He’s not though. He’s right. You are making a difference.”

 

“What if I don’t want to?” Bright blue eyes flicked to Brian, looking almost scared. “What if I don’t want that pressure and…responsibility? I don’t want them all to look up to me because…what if nothing happens? What if I write and sing songs and nothing happens? I could have had a chance to make a real difference and I would have ruined it.”

 

Brian pulled Roger into a stop, watching his conflicted face lit up by the lights all around them. “Don’t you see? You’ve already made a difference. They’re talking about you Rog. They are seeing a strong, confident angel who refuses to bow down. You are changing things whether you want to or not.”

 

Roger let out a long sigh and pressed his forehead into Brian’s chest. “It’s a lot.”

 

“I know,” Brian pressed lips to the top of his hat. “But we’re here. You don’t need to go…make speeches and host rallies or whatever. Start small, just be the badass that you are. That’s enough for now.”

 

The angel pursed his lips and nodded. “We need to hire more angels. We need them as roadies and assistants and…fucking hairdressers. We need to pay them properly and make sure they know that they are equal. It can’t just be me and Leona.”

 

“You’re right,” Brian nodded. “I’ll talk to Miami and see what we can do for the US leg of the tour.”

 

“Even if we have to buy them,” Roger’s face was like stone, icy and cold. “Promise me?”

 

“Of course,” Brian squeezed his arms around him, feeling the wings under his coat. “But you help us okay? We’ll do it together.”

 

He nodded, hands twisting in Brian’s coat. “That’s my Christmas present then? I’m going to get to pick out my very own angels?”

 

“You’re going to free your very own angels,” Brian corrected.

 

Roger looked thoughtful and then nodded, smiling softly. “Well, that sounds like a pretty fantastic gift.”

 


	41. Chapter 41

When Brian had tried to imagine angel centers he had pictured a prison. The walls and floors would be made of the same drab concrete, windows would have bars, and sad eyes would look out at him from too small cells.

 

That wasn’t what it was like at all.

 

Sunrise Angel Adoptions was a beautiful home right in the middle of London. The gardens out front were perfectly manicured, flowers out front despite the dreary winter weather. A woman in a fine suit greeted them at the door, shaking their hand with a wide smile.

 

“Can I interest you in a tea or coffee?” She asked pleasantly, guiding them into a spacious front room. A few other people milled about, chatting with other salesmen. Roger pressed in close to Brian, sandwiched between him and John. His eyes were cast to the floor and his shoulders were curled in tight.

 

“No thank you,” Freddie shook his head. He walked in front of them, willing to be the speaker for the group.

 

As subtly as he could, Brian let his hand brush against Roger’s but the angel didn’t react. He didn’t know what this was like for Roger, to return to the place where he was bought and sold against his will. The last time he walked across this lush carpet his leash was being handed over to Tim.

 

“Well, I’m Vanessa and I’ll be helping you out today. Anything in particular you’re interested in?” She babbled happily. “Something to complement the beauty you have now? We have a new line of blonds as well, both female and male whatever your interest might be.”

 

“No,” even confident Freddie faltered a bit at that.

 

“I see, want to try something a bit different?” Her laugh sounded like a bell, sweet and high. “Just let me know and I can help you out. I’ve been known to have a knack of picking out the perfect angel for the owner’s personality.”

 

“We-“

 

 

“Where is the pound?” Roger interrupted, making the girl’s over plucked eyebrows nearly shoot into her hairline. She stared at him before glancing at the rest of them, clearly confused why they weren’t correcting his behavior.

 

“What is the pound?” John asked, noticing that more people were staring.

 

Vanessa’s smile went a bit brittle and stiff. “That’s not…it is silly angel slang, it doesn’t mean anything. Now, I can show you to the adoption rooms and can introduce you to some…well trained angels that you might enjoy seeing.”

 

“The pound is what we called the place they sent the unwanted angels. The ones who were returned too many times,” Roger spoke up and Vanessa’s cheerful smile dropped for a moment. “It’s where they wait for the vet to put them down.”

 

An uncomfortable silence followed. Freddie straightened his shoulders and fixed Vanessa with a sharp look. “We’d like to take a look.”

 

Vanessa’s eyes went wide and she hesitated a bit, looking between them all before fixing that same smile. “I understand that you are an up and coming band and…the luxury of owning an angel seems like everything right now but…I would feel like I let you down if you had to be settled with a sub par product.”

 

Next to him Roger went perfectly stiff, eyes narrowing. Brian could practically feel the frostiness coming from him. It was a bit satisfying that after a beat Vanessa had to look away, clearly uncomfortable with the naked hostility coming from Roger.

 

“We want to take a look,” Freddie said firmly.

 

“Sir,” Vanessa tried again, keeping her voice soft so that the other customers wouldn’t stare more than they already were. “If you are looking for angels at a lower price point I have a few I can recommend. I’m not sure what establishment allowed you to leave with a poorly trained and damaged angel but, I would hate for you to go home with an angel who was physically or aesthetically displeasing just to save a bit of money.”

 

“I’ve asked now three times,” Freddie managed to keep his voice steady. “Take us back there.”

 

Vanessa pursed her lips before spinning on her heel, all niceties gone. She walked down the hall with a click of her heels, closely followed by the rest of them, until she reached an unlabeled door.

 

“Usually we don’t show people this room. It can be upsetting and...you are not the normal clientele who would come back here,” she rocked a bit on her feet. “But if you are insisting I will help you out as much as I can. I would just like to say that some of these angels need a bit of…extra care. We do offer training courses and can include a course for your current angel at a discount.”

 

She was good at her job. She was good at dehumanizing the beings she sold. She was good at spinning pretty words to hide an ugly truth.

 

Nothing could hide how horrible it really was.

 

There was no lush carpeting or warm lighting. Everything was concrete and metal, cold and foreboding. A shaky breath came from Roger and Brian felt a full shiver run down his spine. This place was Roger’s nightmare, the place that angels would whisper about to each other. He couldn’t imagine walking into his own personal hell.

 

Lining the wall were several cages, looking more like dog cages than something that could hold a person. Three of the cages were full, angels huddled into the corner. Their eyes looked up at them with a kind of hopelessness that chilled Brian to the core.

 

A flash of blue startled him as Roger slipped past them all to approach the cages. Vanessa let out a startled gasp and shook her head quickly. “I must insist you control your pet!”

 

They ignored the rambling to watch Roger sink to the floor in front of the first angel, wrapping his fingers around the bars. As quietly as he could, Brian walked forward to glance at the tag placed on the cage.

 

_Male_

_22 Years of Age_

_Condition: Loss of eye due to injury_

_Disposal determined necessary – no resale value_

His stomach clenched so painfully Brian was scared he would be sick. The angel in the cage had his long matted hair mostly over his face but the horrid scarring across his face was still obvious. It looked like someone had taken a blow torch to his face.

 

“It’s okay,” Roger’s voice was soft and soothing, just barely shaking. “It will be okay. No needle will ever touch your skin. You won’t ever feel pain like you have again. They are good, decent people. You will be safe now, safe and free.”

 

The other two angels rustled in their cages, moving towards the bars. It wasn’t hope in their eyes but it wasn’t far off. Another man was in the cage next to them and a young girl in the third. Vanessa was still rambling away, mentioning some of the pros and cons.

 

“If you are looking to make money on their organs I can tell you that you will get very little profit I’m afraid. Some people might be interested in the males for fighting or maybe the girl for a pleasure house,” she hummed. “We don’t often sell…used goods.”

 

Brian ignored her as he walked down the row, reading over the tags. Every word made something sour and vile settle in his stomach. This was truly hell and everything about it was evil.

 

_Male_

_19 years of age_

_Condition: 3+ returns_

_Disposal determined necessary – overuse_

_Female_

_16 years of age_

_Condition: purchased as breeder and found to be infertile_

_Disposal determined necessary – lack of usefulness_

“We can’t leave them here,” he heard Roger whisper and looked down to see pleading blue eyes. “Brian…”

 

“We’ll purchase all three,” he spoke up, not even stopping to see if Freddie and John agreed (he knew they would). “And we don’t want any training course or…anything from you.”

 

Thankfully Vanessa knew when to shut up. She nodded and John followed her to work out the finances. Freddie hovered behind them both, obviously disturbed and feeling out of his element. The angels looked wary and nervous, rightly so.

 

“My name is Roger,” Roger stepped back a bit so they could all see him. “I was like you, I was owned and beaten and tortured. These men, they saved me. They made me free and we’re going to free you all as well. You will never be hurt, touched against your will, or treated like an animal.”

 

“This is a trick,” the angel with the missing eye rasped out.

 

Roger shook his head. “No. I swear. We are a band and they have helped write songs about our people. They are trying to help us. We will hire you, pay you a wage, and you will be part of that movement.”

 

“What kind of work?” He asked and it struck Brian that they would have _never_ spoken to anyone but another angel.

 

“They taught me to play music. We’ll teach you how to set up the instruments and be a part of the band. You’ll be a part of something amazing,” his eyes were bright and the angel hesitated. “I swear to you that it will be a new life for you, a new life where you are free.”

 

The youngest angel, the girl, wrapped her fingers around the bars. “And what if we can’t do the job you ask of us?”

 

“Then we’ll find something else. We would never punish you for anything,” Freddie spoke up and they went tense. A moment passed before the girl nodded.

 

“Alright,” she whispered. “I’d…I’d like that.”

 

A blinding smile stretched across Roger’s face. “And we want to get more of us. Our crew is going to be equally human and angel. They can’t keep pretending we’re nothing for long.”

 

For the first time since they walked into the room, hope shimmered in the angel’s eyes.


	42. Chapter 42

The angels adapted beautifully.

 

Matthew, the angel with the missing eye, had fallen easily into assisting the caterer. He had worked in a restaurant previous to being sent to the shelter. He had never gone into detail about the circumstances that led to his gruesome injuries but he was very skittish around humans, not speaking to them and watching them suspiciously. Thankfully, their catering manager practically adopted him and allowed him to help out at a pace he felt comfortable. A few weeks into their American tour and a few trips to a veterinarian and he was healing and smiling more.

 

Peter, the “overused” angel, was a kind soul who helped the medics. He had been bought by an elderly doctor who had passed, been sold again to a pair of veterinarians and then sold again when they needed to cut back on bills. He had learned a lot from them, was smart and kind, and had been marked for death just because of the number of owners he had. Peter quickly fell into his role as a on stage medic, helping those who got scrapes and cuts and quickly won over the human employees with his easy smile and sense of humor.

 

Michelle was the youngest angel, the one who was declared useless because of her infertility, held back the most. None of the angels were forced to work, instead they were offered positions that they could take if they wanted. She hovered in the background, extraordinarily nervous around men, but never made a move to get involved in a position. A few weeks in she began to relax more, realizing that no one was going to hurt her. It was then that she showed an interest in electrical work. John was more than happy to show her how some of the equipment worked and her tiny frame made it easily for her to wiggle into some of the tighter spots to adjust wires. The electricians on staff were impressed with how quickly she learned and in no time she was “one of the guys”.

 

America was different this time around. They weren’t playing along side someone or supporting anyone, it was all them. The people who were at the concerts knew them and their songs. People _loved_ them.

 

It was something powerful to hear people singing along to their songs. Roger threw his everything into drumming and singing, feeling truly like an equal in those moments. When they were playing it wasn’t him and his “masters” but four people making music. He loved every moment.

 

But, it was still exhausting.

 

“Roger!” He turned to Crystal, eyes narrowing, as the man shouted at him. “This set up work for you?”

 

It was the day before their first night at the Beacon Theater and everyone was working overtime to get everything set up exactly like they wanted. Freddie was fiddling with the piano, looking nearly pained at how out of tune it was. Brian and John were working with their assistants, making sure their instruments and backups were working well.

 

“It feels pretty good,” he moved around a bit on the stool, hitting at a few of the drums with his sticks.

 

“Yeah? Is it too far back?” Crystal frowned at the front of the stage. “It feels farther than usual.”

 

Roger squinted his eyes and leaned a bit further up, trying to focus on where Freddie was sitting. He frowned when he realized that the blurry outline of the lead singer was slightly harder to see than usual. “It might be a bit far.”

 

“Really? How far?” Crystal stood on the riser and cocked his head.

 

“I can’t see Freddie if he gives me a signal,” he pointed to the blur that he assumed was Freddie.

 

Crystal let out a loud laugh which instantly quieted when he realized that Roger wasn’t joking. “You honestly can’t see him? Christ Roger how blind are you?”

 

He had never considered his own eyesight. It wasn’t like angels were brought in for eye exams or anything, he just thought it was normal. Now he realized that maybe it wasn’t so normal.

 

“I don’t know…”

 

“And you were telling me that you were driving on that farm? Poor Brian,” Crystal chuckled and shook his head. “Well…you need glasses. No doubt about it, you are blind as a bat if you can’t even see the front of the stage.”

 

“What am I supposed to do?” Roger raised his eyebrows.

 

Crystal thought for a moment before snapping his fingers and motioning for the angel to follow him. They made it to the stage before Brain called out to them, confused. “I’m just taking your boy to the doctor!”

 

Instantly, confusion turned to horror and Brian handed over his guitar to a nearby roadie without even looking. “What? Are you okay? What happened?”

 

“I’m fine!” Roger brushed him off. “Apparently I can’t see.”

 

“He couldn’t even see Freddie from where he was on the riser! I’m taking him to see if we can get him some glasses in a rush,” Crystal grabbed Roger’s arm and pulled him along. “You all can stay and rehearse a bit, we’ll be fine!”

 

“Stay here Bri, get ready for tomorrow,” Roger smiled, noticing that the guitarist’s body relaxed slightly. “I’m okay.”

 

He felt a warmth in his chest as Brian nodded. It was nice to be trusted to look after himself, to not be seen as the fragile thing that needed protection. He followed Crystal to the front lobby of the concert hall and waited as he chatted with the receptionist.

 

“She said there’s an eye doctor down the way that is able to get glasses made in a day,” Crystal practically sang when he walked out. “Let’s go!”

 

“We can’t just leave!” Roger shook his head, grinning as Crystal gave him a look.

 

“Why not? Who’s going to tell you not to?” And he was right. He didn’t have a master or boss to tell him what or what not to do. With a shrug, he followed Crystal into the chilly morning air.

 

It wasn’t unusual to see angels in big cities, especially somewhere like New York. Angels with bowed heads and collars scuttled behind their masters, eyes cast on the floor in front of them. It might have been odd to see an angel and a human walking side by side, laughing and joking.

 

The ophthalmologist office was small and homey, still decorated with Christmas decorations even though it was February. The receptionist was a heavyset woman wearing neon pink cat eye glasses and she smiled warmly at them.

 

“Can I help you sir?” She asked, focused entirely on Crystal and Roger’s stomach dropped. They may not even serve angels and this would all be for nothing.

 

“My friend here needs to get his eyes checked and possibly some glasses,” Crystal fixed her with a winning smile and she glanced at Roger.

 

“…him?”

 

“Yes miss,” he nodded and she hesitated.

 

“Um…let me just go talk to the doctor and see if he’s okay with that,” she scuttled off into the back room, leaving them alone in the waiting room.

 

Roger fidgeted, uncomfortable. “We should just go.”

 

“No,” Crystal shook his head. “If your vision is that bad and you don’t get glasses you could get headaches and…other brain things.”

 

“You have no idea,” Roger laughed, getting a chuckle in response.

 

A few moments later the receptionist returned with a young man in a lab coat. The man beamed at them, eyes bright behind his own glasses. “Hello! I’m Doctor Gussman, how can I help you?”

 

“My boss here is in dire need of an eye exam and possibly glasses,” Crystal nodded towards Roger. “He’s playing a concert over the next few days and is having trouble seeing.”

 

“A concert?” The doctor looked Roger up and down.

 

“I’m the drummer for Queen,” pride fluttered in Roger’s chest when both of their eyes widened.

 

“I know you! You guys did Bohemian Rhapsody and…what was it…The Seven Seas of Rhye! You are amazing!” The doctor gushed. “Debra, get them some new patient forms.”

 

“Really?” Roger found himself grinning.

 

“Sure! I’m…honestly, I just graduated from school. This is my dad’s office and he’s out for the week,” the young doctor looked a little embarrassed at that. “We don’t have many appointments this week anyway. Could you both come with me?”

 

They followed Doctor Gussman into a small examination room and he motioned for Roger to sit in the chair. A faint flicker of panic licked at the pit of his stomach, remembering the horrible, violating “medical checkups” he was forced to undergo in the shelter.

 

This wasn’t like that.

 

These people actually wanted to help.

 

“Do you often work on angels?” Roger asked as the doctor set up his equipment.

 

A faint blush lit up the young man’s face. “Well…you’re the third exam I’ve done since I left school and we never worked on angels there. I can’t imagine we’re all that different, humans and angels. My dad…probably wouldn’t let me but he’s not here right now.”

 

He pulled the tray closer to himself and Roger jumped at the rattling of the instruments. The doctor paused and his face softened as Roger blushed. “Sorry.”

 

“When we were in school we would have to go practice procedures on angels in some of the shelters…the ones that people thought weren’t adoptable,” his voice went soft. “I didn’t like that part at all. I promise that I’m going to treat you like any other customer.”

 

Crystal, who had been hovering behind him, relaxed a bit and stepped away. The doctor did what he promised, explaining every step of the process before he did anything. It took a few moments before Roger relaxed and followed all the instructions.

 

“Well, you do need glasses,” Doctor Gussman announced when they finished. “Quite badly too. We have a lab here on sight and can get you glasses in just over an hour.”

 

“Let’s go!” Crystal clapped his hands and they went into another room. Rows of glasses lined the walls and another man sat at a desk, looking surprised as they walked in.

 

“Roger here just got a prescription and needs his glasses today,” he handed the man Roger’s file. Then he leaned down and whispered something into the man’s ear, getting a short nod in return. “Nick here is going to help you guys out, okay?”

 

The spent the next few minutes, trying on frames and laughing at the particularly ridiculous ones. Crystal was nearly doubled over laughing when Roger posed with lime green plastic frames.

 

“Ugh, I don’t know…none of them scream rock and roll you know?” Roger grumbled. “Name one drummer who wears glasses.”

 

“Elton John does,” Crystal offered.

 

“He’s not a drummer!” Roger huffed out, annoyed.

 

“So you can be the first!”

 

“It’s not my job to be the first at everything. I can’t be the first angel and the first drummer wearing glasses,” he let out a sigh, playing with the frames in his hands.

 

“What about these? They’re pretty subtle,” Crystal held up a pair with aviator style frames, thin metal. With a long groan, Roger nodded and Nick took the frames before writing the number down on a form.

 

“Alright, it will take me about an hour to get these lenses done up,” he smiled. “You both can relax in the lobby if you want? Debra usually has a pot of coffee on.”

 

So this was what it was like to be treated like a human. He had people actually trying to help him, trying to improve his life. It might have sounded a bit snooty but he liked having people do stuff for him, it felt like he was worth something.

 

The little bell next to the front door jingled and a woman stepped in with her son. She went to the counter and spoke softly with the receptionist while the boy, maybe six years old at most, stared blatantly at Roger.

 

Staring was something Roger was well used to, especially from children. He busied himself with looking through one of the aged magazines on the side table.

 

“My mommy says that if you have an angel you’re a bad person,” a tiny voice made him glance up and the boy was just a few feet away from them.

 

“David!” The mother hissed, darting towards them and grabbing the boy’s arm. “That is so rude! I am so, so sorry sir!”

 

“It’s fine,” Crystal shook his head with a smile and turned to the little boy. “I don’t own him though, I don’t own any angels. I think it’s bad too. Actually, he’s my boss.”

 

“Really?” The boy’s eyes widened, his mother hesitating behind him.

 

“Sure, I tell him what to do all the time,” Roger grinned and the mother finally relaxed.

 

The mother smiled faintly at them. “We don’t believe in owning angels in our house and David…he’s always been a bit outspoken.”

 

“That’s good,” Roger smiled. “It’s good to be outspoken. That’s how people hear you and that’s how things change. We need people like you in the world.”

 

David beamed, eyes bright.

 

“He’s a rock star you know,” Crystal piped up and the boy’s mouth dropped a bit. “He plays in a band.”

 

The mother gasped, hand flying to her mouth. “I knew I recognized you! My husband and I love Queen!”

 

He had never been the focus of so much positive attention before. Roger didn’t know what else to do but smile awkwardly and listen to her rant about how she owned all their albums. The boy looked equally starstruck, nodding along with his mother.

 

“We’re in town for the next four days. I can set a few tickets aside for you,” he suggested and the mother’s eyes widened. “I wouldn’t bring the little one though…our lead singer gets…excitable.”

 

“Maybe you can give the little guy an autograph,” Crystal suggested and the boy nodded wildly.

 

He managed to get a slip of paper from the front desk and a pen and hesitated. He had never signed anything for anyone before. All those times that he had teased Freddie about practicing his signature came back to him and he wished he had done the same.

 

With a sharp hand, he wrote his name and passed it to the boy who grinned wider than Roger had ever seen.

 

They chatted for a bit before Doctor Gussman came back out to call David and his mother in. Handshakes were exchanged and David gave Roger a quick high five, shrieking with laughter when Roger extended his wing and brushed the feathers over the boy’s head.

 

Roger could hardly keep the smile off his face, feeling almost giddy. He was treated like a person, not just a person but someone to be admired and respected. It was obvious that Crystal was also happy with the situation but stayed quiet, just letting Roger have his moment.

 

“Sir?” It took a moment before Roger realized that he was the one being addressed. Nick stood at the counter with a case in his hand. “Your glasses are finished.”

 

He jumped up and accepted the case, opening it to see the glasses sitting in it. He frowned a bit at them, dreading the way he would look in glasses but he slipped them on.

 

Then everything snapped into focus.

 

Roger blinked, realizing that he could actually see the clock behind the counter and read the posters that lined the wall. He honestly didn’t even know the world was supposed to look so clear but it was amazing.

 

“How many fingers am I holding up?” Crystal teased, sticking up his middle finger to get the same one in response.

 

Nick paused for a moment before pulling out another case. “I know that you were concerned about not…being rock and roll enough so I thought I’d help you out with some prescription sunglasses.”

 

A pair of aviators sat in the second case, lenses lightly tinted brown. They looked like fashionable sunglasses and a wide smile spread across Roger’s face. When he put those on the world went a bit darker but still in crisp focus.

 

“Now that’s a good look,” Crystal smiled and Roger couldn’t help but look at himself in the mirror a bit longer. He did look good.

 

After thank yous, hand shakes, and promises of free show tickets, they started their way back to the theater. Roger had a bounce to his step, eagerly taking in every detail that he had been missing for so long.

 

No one said anything about the sunglasses when he returned to rehearsal but he was able to see the small smile Brian shot him across the stage. He was able to see the bounce to his curls and the way his brow furrowed when he really concentrated on a difficult riff.

 

Being able to see, something that he hadn’t even considered was a problem, left him nearly breathless. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of the way Brian’s muscles shifted under his thin shirt as he played. He couldn’t look away from the slightly sharp points of Brian’s teeth when he laughed loudly. He couldn’t look away from the warm looks Brian would give him across the stage.

 

Maybe the glasses weren’t so bad.

 

“I like the new look Mr. Taylor,” Michelle said softly as she fiddled with the speaker nearest to his drum set.

 

“I can actually see with the new look,” he laughed. “They’re prescription.”

 

“Really?” She looked surprised. “They spent money on getting _you_ glasses?”

 

Money. Roger’s stomach fell at the mention of money. He hadn’t even thought about it but Crystal had obviously spent a decent amount of money on the glasses. He glanced to his assistant, watching as the older man just continued to fiddle with the equipment.

 

“Yeah…they did,” he nodded and Michelle hummed.

 

“You know…sometimes I think I’m living in a dream,” she whispered, sharing a private smile with him. “I was about to be put down and I was okay with it. What else could I have to look forward to in life? Then you all came in and brought me here. I’m respected, I’m treated as an equal, and I feel like…I have a family.”

 

“I know exactly what you mean,” Roger reached over to squeeze her hand.


	43. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Some drug use...it was the 70's y'all...

The other angels avoided him.

 

Aside from the polite nods and mumbled conversations they completely avoided him. Awkward gazes were cast his way before they scurried off to do their task, not even glancing back at him. Roger was puzzled, confused why they seemed to like staying near each other but no where near him.

 

It kind of hurt.

 

It made him feel remarkably alone.

 

Brian had suggested talking to them but that caused a ball of anxiety to tighten in his stomach. John suggested giving them some time to settle but it had been months since they started working for them. Freddie had gifted him a few bottles of wine and a few joints and suggested he “use some social lubricant” to get the conversation started.

 

Roger took Freddie’s advice.

 

After a show, Roger waved off Brian’s concern and his offers to stay. His mind was made up and nothing was going to stop him from figuring this all out. So, he waited until most of the crew had filtered out and approached the huddle of angels just off stage.

 

“Hello!” He said, internally wincing at how overly loud his voice came out.

 

The three angels stopped talking and turned to stare at him, wings held his and still. It was Michelle who finally answered. “Hello Mr. Taylor.”

 

“None of that,” he hated the weird, overly bubbly personality he had adopted. Clearly it made the others feel a bit awkward as well. “It’s Roger, please call me Roger…I was wanting to know if you all wanted to come back to my hotel room and celebrate the end of the American tour.”

 

Something flashed across the angel’s faces and they all looked at each other, wings twitching in silent communication. Finally, Michelle looked at him. “No thank you sir.”

 

“It’ll be just us! No humans allowed,” Roger crossed over his heart. “One of those…birds of a feather flock together kind of things…I promise I won’t talk like that anymore.”

 

That got a genuine smile from them and they agreed. The hotel was a quick walk from the venue and they managed to make it there with minimal stares, something they had expected with four angels walking unescorted through the streets.

 

The ride up the elevator was quiet and uncomfortable, even with Roger attempting and failing at small talk. The other three angels scooted closer to each other and gave each other sharp glances, obviously unsure of what to do.

 

“So…the others will be there?” Peter finally asked, his dark green wings pulled in tight behind his back.

 

“Others? No,” Roger frowned and shook his head. “I have my own room. I said no humans, I meant it.”

 

They relaxed a bit at that but still stayed quiet until they reached his room. Peter’s eyes lit up a bit when he saw the joints and bottle sitting on the small table and Michelle grinned, realizing that it was actually going to just be the four of them relaxing.

 

Matthew wasn’t so sure.

 

His brown speckled wings twitched nervously as he hovered near the walls, watching as Peter lit a joint and Michelle opened the windows. Roger grabbed a bottle, poured a glass and held it out to Matthew with a smile.

 

“No thank you,” Matthew shook his head, his one eye narrowing. “I’m not so easy to buy.”

 

Roger frowned at that, glancing at the others who had frozen. “What?”

 

“Matt, now’s not the time,” Michelle mumbled, shaking her head.

 

“No? He got us in here to ply us with drinks and drugs. He wants something…he’s not like us Michelle,” his gaze never left Roger’s. “And I’m happy to stand here while you play your stupid little game but I won’t participate.”

 

Peter let out a long breath of smoke and looked between them nervously. “Okay, we are here to just have fun Matt.”

 

“Are we? Do you have any idea what he wants from us?” Matthew whirled on them, scowl on his face.

 

“I want to be your friend!” Roger snapped back, annoyed.

 

“Do you? Is that why you convinced your masters to buy us?” It was clear that this anger had been building for a long time and now finally was coming out. “You, the pampered pet, wanted play mates and they knew that if they got cheap ones it wouldn’t matter when you got bored.”

 

Roger blinked. “That’s what you think?”

 

“Come on. I’m not stupid,” Matthew huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “You were bought by three rock stars and trained to become one yourself. You’re no different than those stupid little poodles Hollywood celebrities carry around in their purse.”

 

For a moment, Roger was overwhelmed with anger. He wanted to slam his fist into the other angel’s face and maybe pull a few feathers out in the meantime. Instead, he managed to take a deep breath and caught sight of the other two angels watching nervously.

 

“They weren’t my first masters. I was bought by another man who hurt me every chance he got. He raped me, hit me, and tormented me. I was the entertainment at parties and he would just laugh when I begged for a break,” he kept his voice calm and steady. “I stood up to him and he broke my wing. Apparently, I wasn’t worth enough to fix and he decided to sell me. Brian, Freddie and John bought me then because we had become friends. They didn’t buy me for a purpose or…they did it to save me…the same reason we bought you.”

 

Silence.

 

What he had hoped was going to be a fun, easy evening turned into something else. He had been so naïve to assume that the angels would adapt without a problem. He knew better than others that wounds took time to heal.

 

“My master said that I was like a son to him,” Matthew whispered. “He treated me with kindness and taught me how to cook. I just…I broke an expensive dish and he held my face over the burner. Forgive me if I’m not as trusting of humans…I’ve seen them act nice at first.”

 

“We’ve all seen evil,” Michelle spoke up, looking between the two of them. “We’ve seen how cruel humans can be but…Matthew we can’t just live the rest of our lives expecting pain. I’m…I’m being treated like a person here. They respect me and…some I can even call friends.”

 

Peter nodded and Matthew’s lips thinned into a line.

 

“I know it’s terrifying to trust others but they won’t hurt you. Queen is…Queen is a family. It is a safe place. It is a home,” Roger noticed that Matthew’s wings relaxed a bit. “And it is okay to be angry. I’m _furious_ at the injustice of all of this but…we are making a difference. You are making a difference just being with us.”

 

“Do you think that we will truly be free? Do you think this band is that powerful?” Peter whispered.

 

“I do,” Roger nodded and the mood in the room shifted a bit. It felt lighter. “I think that forcing ourselves to be seen, to show people who we are and what we can do, is going to change everything.”

 

There was a long pause before Matthew grabbed a bottle of wine and took a swig straight from the bottle. “Here’s to changing everything.”

 

“Here, here,” Roger took the bottle with a smile and sipped.

 

It took a few more drinks and a few puffs from the joint before they were all lazing on the furniture. Michelle was in the middle of gushing about how cute another lighting tech was, practically waxing poetry about how pretty his eyes were. Roger was giggling at her description of his butt when she propped herself up on her elbows and grinned at him.

 

“But I’m sure you think _Brian’s_ is better,” she sang, making Peter practically howl with laughter.

 

“You and Brian?” Matthew asked but his accusatory tone from earlier was replaced with genuine curiosity. It had taken some time (and a few glasses of wine) before the angel had loosened up somewhat. “Really?”

 

“Yeah,” Roger felt himself blush.

 

“And who’s idea was that?” Matthew raised his eyebrows.

 

Roger tsked and waggled his finger. “None of that. It was a mutual decision. In fact I tried to push further more than once and he said no. He’s never been anything but courteous and respectful of my boundaries. I love him and he loves me.”

 

Michelle cooed and Matthew watched him thoughtfully before nodding. “And he’s not hurting you?”

 

“No,” Roger shook his head. “I mean…he’s been an ass a few times, but I make sure he makes up for it.”

 

“A human and an angel actually in love,” he hummed and lay back down, pulling the joint back to his lips. “Who would have thought? Well…if he makes a wrong move you let us know.”

 

“Now you’re okay with me?” Roger teased and got a faint smile in return.

 

“I was wrong before. You are one of us and we need to protect our own,” Matthew shrugged. “Birds of a feather and all that.”

 

“Birds of a feather,” he echoed, smiling back.

 

 

 


	44. Chapter 44

First class was so much better.

 

It made a world of difference to be able to spread apart, getting their own room to relax in. He didn’t miss the way they were crammed next to each other like sardines. He really didn’t miss the pinched look of pain on Roger’s face when his wings started cramping up.

 

The sleepy squint and rumpled hair as he gently woke him up was much cuter.

 

“What?” The angel rubbed at his eyes, feathers fluffing themselves up a bit.

 

“We’re landing in Tokyo in maybe fifteen minutes,” Brian grinned, running his fingers through messy blond hair.

 

“Then wake me up in fifteen minutes,” Roger grumbled, closing his eyes and laying his head back on the back of his chair. He groaned when Brian continued to poke and prod at him, finally lifting a wing to block him entirely.

 

“Come on Rog,” Brian chuckled. “Wake up, put your shoes on, and get your stuff together. You’re not a baby and I’m not doing it for you.”

 

Roger did manage to get himself somewhat prepared by the time the plane pulled up to their terminal. He was still drowsy and half awake, hat pulled down low on his head, as they walked out. Brian couldn’t blame him though. Weeks of touring and time zone changes had a drain on everyone.

 

But that tired daze vanished when they heard the cheers.

 

The moment they passed through the doors they were hit by a wall of sound. Fans screamed and jumped, cameras flashing at them. Brian was taken aback for a moment, overwhelmed by the bright waving posters and sheer volume of the shrieks.

 

They had fans but _this_ was something else.

 

He was in the middle of waving and smiling awkwardly when Roger grabbed his arm, eyes far too wide. “Brian, _look._ There are angels.”

 

And there were.

 

Throughout the crowd were angels. Their colorful and tall wings poked up among the people gathered. But they weren’t waiting quietly by their master’s side. They were cheering as well, grinning and pointing cameras. They were standing there, uncollared, like everyone else.

 

Roger stood, stalk still in the hallway, eyes wide and locked on the angels in the crowd. They seemed to notice his sudden attention and exploded with even more wild cheers. The signs were lifted up higher and Brian was able to read them.

 

_We love Roger!_

_Welcome to Japan Roger!_

_Long Live the Fairy King!_

“Mr. Taylor?” An airport employee’s softly accented voice broke them both out of their slight daze. A woman smiled gently and waved him over. “This way please.”

 

They continued down the hallway, following Freddie and John to the cars waiting outside. More people stood by the street and took pictures, talking quickly and shouting out their names. With a final wave, they slid into the limo and shut the door.

 

“Did you see?” Roger craned his neck to look at the crowd through the window as the car pulled away. “There were angels! They had signs and…they looked free.”

 

“There are no angel ownership laws here,” the driver called back, smiling at them in the rearview mirror. “They are free.”

 

Brian felt his breath catch in his throat as Roger went perfectly still. Angels were free here? How had they never heard about that? It seemed like something from some insane alternate reality. Roger slumped down in the seat next to him, face drawn in thought.

 

“So…while I’m here…am I free?” Roger asked softly.

 

“Yes sir,” the man nodded. “Those ownership laws are null and void.”

 

Blue eyes blinked furiously, and Roger’s hands folded neatly on his lap. Part of Brian was dying to ask him about how he was feeling but something was shuttered across his face, making the words dry up in his mouth.

 

They went the rest of the ride in silence. Tokyo’s beautiful city scape passed by as they drove deeper into the city. Finally, they pulled up to a rather ornate looking hotel. A small army of bellhops hurried to grab their things and scuttled away, carrying their luggage with them.

 

“Welcome to Tokyo,” a smiling woman approached them, her hair done up in a neat bun. “We are so pleased that you have chosen our hotel for your stay.”

 

“Technically our tour manager did but he did a damn good job,” Freddie said charmingly, getting a faint blush in return. Roger enjoyed the way John puffed up like a cat, clearly annoyed with Freddie’s harmless flirting. He also enjoyed the smug smile on Freddie’s face when he caught John’s reaction as well.

 

“Here are your keys,” she handed them each a set of keys, holding Roger’s in front of him for a beat longer before he realized that he had his own room. Slender fingers curled around the slip of metal and he smiled to himself, holding the key to his chest. “Please enjoy the amenities in your rooms and we hope you have a pleasant stay.”

 

Roger still looked like he was in a daze as they approached their rooms, numbers written in elegant scroll on the doors. John let out a squeak as Freddie unlocked his door and pulled the younger man in, slamming the door behind them.

 

“Ah, young love,” Brian chuckled, turning to invite Roger into his room as well to see Roger at his own door. “We’re going to your room?”

 

“My room,” he echoed, sounding a bit dreamy. “Yeah, let’s go to my room.”

 

The room was larger than Brian expected, the artwork and sliding paper doors making it soothing and cozy. Roger instantly stepped into the bathroom, poking around the closets, but Brian got distracted by the huge fruit basket that had been left on the table.

 

He was picking through the strawberries when arms wrapped around his waist and wings bracketed him on either side. Roger stood on his tiptoes and stretched his neck a bit to rest his chin on Brian’s shoulder.

 

“You’re taking _my_ fruit,” he mumbled in Brian’s ear, getting a grin in response.

 

“Am I?”

 

“Yup, my fruit in my room,” Brian turned around to see that Roger had donned a brightly colored robe with the hotel logo embroidered on the breast. He motioned behind him. “They have snaps for the wings. They thought of that!”

 

Something bubbled in Brian’s chest at that. This was an upscale hotel that catered to angels, actually catered to them as guests. It was the first time Roger had been valued as a person by someone outside of their circle.

 

Roger looped his arms around Brian’s neck, bringing him down so their foreheads touched. “I’m free here.”

 

“I know,” Brian wrapped his own arms around the angel’s waist. “You’re free.”

 

“And if I stay here…I’ll be free forever,” his voice went soft and Brian felt like his heart skipped a beat. “No one will own me.”

 

He nodded wordlessly, tongue suddenly feeling too thick in his own mouth.

 

“Would you stay with me?”

 

A storm of emotions twisted in Brian’s stomach. He considered Roger a free man, he really did, but the reality of it was a lot to handle. Could he really leave everything in England? Could he move to a whole new country with an unknown language and different culture? Queen wouldn’t survive with half of them on the other end of the world.

 

Then…what would happen if Roger was free?

 

Maybe he would see himself as untethered to Brian. Maybe he would realize what a beautiful, strong man he was and see someone who complimented that aspect of him. Maybe he would feel like he needed to move on from that dark part of his life.

 

“You know what…never mind,” Roger shook his head and stepped back, a tight smile on his face. “It’s fine…I was joking.”

 

“Rog…”

 

“It’s fine! Let’s just dig into this fruit basket and open that bottle of champagne,” that too bright smile stretched at Roger’s lips and he turned to go to the minifridge.

 

And Brian, the coward he was, let the conversation die.


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter is inspired by this beautiful prompt!
> 
> Idk how to phrase it really but here's my request: Roger speaking in public to humans about angel rights or just being the revolutionary boy he is? Doesn't have to necessarily be Roger tho, if you're bored of only ever talking about him you could do that with Ben's storyline. Your choice. Thx xoxoIdk how to phrase it really but here's my request: Roger speaking in public to humans about angel rights or just being the revolutionary boy he is? Doesn't have to necessarily be Roger tho, if you're bored of only ever talking about him you could do that with Ben's storyline. Your choice. Thx xoxo

The audience was so different in Japan. Maybe it was the intense energy. Maybe it was the sheer size of the crowds. Maybe it was the fact that so many angels were in the crowd as well. Regardless, it was some of their best shows.

 

Freddie milked the crowd, striding across the stage in an ornate flowing kimono. He drew the crowd in with his powerful vocals and crooning compliments, shooting dark eyes at John throughout.

 

John played better than ever, clearly adoring everything they experienced in Japan. He soaked up the culture, trying his best to say whatever garbled Japanese he learned in whatever situation he could. He even fell in love with the nightlife, going to multiple clubs with Roger and dancing the night away.

 

Roger was in his element. He donned his own kimono and flashed that beautiful grin at everyone he saw. There was something new about him, a weight gone that had been oppressing him for so long. It was new seeing him live without the invisible collar around his throat.

 

But…Brian wasn’t really falling in love with Japan like the others.  

 

He loved seeing Roger so happy. He loved watching him interact with fans, angel and human alike. There was an energy, a light that he hadn’t ever seen in his eyes and it honestly took Brian’s breath away. Then, someone would make eyes at him and everything in Brian’s chest would contract.

 

“Roger says he wants to stay,” he murmured to Freddie before taking a sip of his tea. Roger and John shrieked as they chased each other around the beautifully manicured lawn they were sitting on. It had started with John flicking a wad of rice at the drummer and getting a wing to the back of the head in return before everything went insane.

 

“Stay?”

 

“Yeah…stay here and not go back to London,” Freddie blinked at him, clearly surprised.

 

“Oh…I suppose that makes sense,” it seemed like Freddie was picking his words very carefully. “He is free here after all.”

 

“I know that.”

 

The singer stared at him, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “And you don’t want him to stay?”

 

“It’s his choice,” Brian stared at the tea in his hands, throat feeling unbearably tight.

 

“You do understand that the moment he steps foot on English soil he goes back to being a possession right? We may treat him like a free man but he wont be,” something flickered in Freddie’s eyes. “So…the choice he would be making was for his freedom.”

 

Brian let out a long, hard breath. “Does it make me a terrible person to wish…to wish that he would come back with us?”

 

_With me?_

“No,” Freddie shook his head. “It doesn’t.”

 

“We wouldn’t have Queen if he stayed,” Brian tried to justify. “We wouldn’t have our _family._ Everything would change.”

 

“But he would be free,” the singer’s voice was soft and non-judgmental. “Have you talked to him about this?”

 

“He asked me and I stayed quiet,” Brian winced at the memory, deciding not to bring up the other insecurities he struggled with. “Then things got weird and…he let it go. I don’t know what to do.”

 

“Stop being a pussy and talk to your boyfriend,” Freddie said simply, glancing over to where John darted away from Roger.

 

But he didn’t.

 

He kept quiet when they got ready for their next show.

 

He kept quiet when they celebrated afterwards.

 

He kept quiet when he and Roger made love in his bed that night.

 

He kept quiet when they traveled to Nagoya, Himeji and Fukuoka.

 

Then they got to Osaka and were brought to where their press conference was taking place. The audience was packed with reporters and cameras flashed as they posed with their gold albums and sat for the panel, Roger right next to them as an equal.

 

At first, the questions were normal. They were asked questions about the album, the tour, and the recording process. The translators worked quickly to make sure their answers were heard, fielding the questions easily.

 

It was halfway through the panel before the elephant in the room was addressed.

 

“Mr. Taylor,” one reporter asked, smiling as Roger visibly perked up at hearing his own name. The translator listened and quickly relayed what he was told. “Laws regarding the ownership of angels is very different in England than here in Japan. Can you speak to your experience as an angel in the music industry?”

 

The small smile on his face dimmed a bit and Brian leaned forward to steer the question in a different direction. Before he could say a word, Roger reached over and squeezed his hand under the table. With a quick shake of his head he leaned in closer to the mic.

 

“I was honestly stunned when I first arrived in Japan, I didn’t know the ownership laws here. I stepped onto Japanese soil and…I was free,” there was a murmur through the crowd when the translator relayed his message. “It’s an amazing feeling, being free. It’s something that so many people take for granted. It’s like…you can walk to the corner shop on your own or you can use your own money to buy a pair of shoes for yourself. The angels in other places can’t do that. We have to wear collars and know, as part of our very being, that we are owned things.

 

“The fact that my talent surprises people is telling in of itself. We are seen are pretty, brainless props. Our words don’t matter. Our thoughts don’t matter. No one expected that I would have any kind of talent. No one thought I had a voice but I do.

 

Our songs are about us. They are about our…our fears, doubts, love, joy and…these songs were our history. It was the first time my people’s history has _ever_ been introduced to mainstream media, not that they knew that, and for the first time angels heard their past. I feel…proud to be a part of that,” he paused mid talk and blushed at the silence. “I hope it makes other angels feel heard. I hope it makes humans realize we are here, and we matter.”

 

There was a long silence, broken only by the clicks of cameras.

 

“So, Rhye? That was angel mythology?” The reporter asked, looking curious.

 

“Yeah, it’s our afterlife and it is where we were taken from by men. It’s the place we return to after death,” the angels in the crowd were smiling and nodding along. “Which honestly…is kind of bullshit that the only beautiful happy place we can dream of going to is our afterlife. Death is often preferable to what angels are going through. No one knows the truth because no one speaks it…at least no one spoke about it until me. I’m going to speak the truth until people have to listen to it.”

 

The fire in his eyes and the venom in his voice set off another volley of camera flashes. Reporters scribbled down furiously and video cameras zoomed in. For a moment, it was just Roger. He was the complete center of attention, the most important person in the room.

 

“Thank you Mr. Taylor,” the reporter smiled.

 

The rest of the interview felt different. Roger was more outspoken, piping in with his opinion on the album and tour. The smiles he gave were truly luminous and more than once Brian found himself at a loss for words, just staring at him.

 

He deserved to be here.

 

He deserved to be heard and have a say.

 

He deserved to be free.

 

A sense of calm settled over Brian. They were working so hard to give Roger a better life, and this could be it. He would be free here; he would be happy. If that meant dissolving Queen, if that meant Brian wasn’t a part of this new life, if that meant he found happiness with someone else…that was okay.

 

They finished the interview, took a few more pictures and got in the car to drive to the venue. Roger’s fingers tapped nervously on his knees the entire time, eyes a bit narrowed in thought. Carefully, Brian inched his hand over and threaded his fingers through Roger’s. The angel gave him a small smile in return and leaned a bit into him.

 

“You seem happy,” Brian turned to whisper against his hair.

 

“I am,” Roger sighed.

 

Something twisted in Brian’s gut. “Good…I want you to be happy.”

 

“What are you going on about?” Roger leaned back to look back at him, eyebrows raised. “You’re acting weird.”

 

“I’m just saying…freedom looks good on you. It’s something you deserve and…I’m glad you finally got it,” Brian shrugged. “It changes everything for you.”

 

A faint frown turned down Roger’s lips. “What?”

 

“You should be happy. You can make such a beautiful life here with whoever you want. Don’t let me stand in the way of that, don’t choose me just because you feel like you have to,” Roger sat up straight at that, brow furrowed. “It’s okay Rog. Really, it’s okay.”

 

“I-“

 

“Alright gentlemen, we’re here,” the driver called, pulling up to the side of the concert hall.

 

The moment the car stopped, Brian jumped out. He wasn’t sure if his heart could handle hearing what Roger wanted. He had put the idea out, he could hold on to that slight hope for a bit longer. Roger huffed behind him, wings caught in the door as he tried to follow him.

 

“Brian!”

 

“It’s okay Roger,” Brian turned around, continuing to walk backwards. “It’s okay.”

 

The angel managed to free himself from the car and jogged up to him. “You’re a fucking idiot Brian.”

 

“What?”

 

“I’m choosing you. I always will,” he felt a bit out of breath at that. “And it’s fucking stupid of you to start this conversation in a damn car. We’ll talk about this after the show, okay? Don’t let this spin around in that head of yours all night though.”

 

“Okay,” Brian nodded dumbly.

 

Roger rolled his eyes and smiled at him. “I choose you, okay?”

 

A tiny smile quirked at his lips and Brian nodded again. “Okay…we’ll talk about it later.”

 

“Yeah, not in the middle of a car park right before a show,” Roger shook his head and nudged him. “We’ll figure it out, together.”

 

“Together.”


	46. Chapter 46

He felt a bit like he was going to be admonished by his father.

 

Brian trailed behind Roger, the hallway feeling unbearably long as they walked in silence to his room. The conversation they had earlier with Roger promising things were alright seemed almost too good to be true. Any moment now the angel was going to realize that he had made a mistake and would tell Brian to go back to England.

 

Alone. 

 

Wasn’t that what he wanted? Didn’t he want Roger to live a happy, full life as a free man? Didn’t he deserve at least that?

 

Still, he felt incredibly small when they entered the room and Roger crossed his arms. 

 

“So. You want me to stay here,” it wasn’t a question.

 

“I want you to be happy,” Brian mumbled. 

 

“And how do you know I’m not happy with you?” the angel pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows. “How can you possibly know that?”

 

“Because you don’t know what being free feels like Roger!” Brian sighed and sat down heavily on the couch. “You don’t really know. I can’t stand the idea that you’d come back with me and...and lose that. You’d go back to being  _ owned _ when you had the chance of being your own person. You’d matter here.”

 

“I don’t matter back home?” Roger’s voice was soft and he lifted his hand when Brian tried to stutter out disagreements. “I know what I’m risking Brian. I know.”

 

“Then why would you risk that?”

 

Roger sat down next to him, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “Because...because if I stay here everything ends. We could tour but it wouldn’t be easy. We couldn’t afford recording across multiple countries and...Queen would fizzle out.”

 

“You are more important that Queen,” Brian whispered and Roger smiled sadly. 

 

“I’m not,” he shrugged. “I’m not more important than what Queen stands for. Brian, angels are free here. They are happy and can have whatever life they want...that’s not how it is everywhere else. If I stop playing and stay here then...who is going to speak for angels?”

 

“Rog...that’s not your job.”

 

“I know...but who else will do it? Angels quote our songs back to us, people see me as someone capable of living a normal life. Without Queen...things won’t change. If I stay here...things won’t change. If I’m able to make a change, isn’t that my responsibility?”

 

Brian stared at Roger and reached up to run his fingers lightly through his hair. “It isn’t.”

 

“But it is.”

 

They sat in silence before Roger spoke up again. “And when you told me to stay here you implied that I would be staying here alone. Why?”

 

God...he was going to make him say it. He was going to make him actually voice the poisonous words that twisted in his head. Part of Brian wanted to deny it, scared that speaking his thoughts would bring them into reality. But...he owed Roger this.

 

“Because you deserve to make that choice.”

 

“And you thought I wouldn’t choose you? You didn’t even let me,” blue eyes went pleading. “Even if I had been born free, born a human, I would still choose you a hundred times over. I’m not...I’m not brainwashed or whatever. I love you because you are good and you love me. It’s not because you were...not because you were the first person to show me kindness.”

 

“Are you sure though...it would be easy to confuse-”

 

“I know. I know what I know,” he gave him a crooked smile. “I’m not confused. You don’t get to decide for me, okay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Let me tell you what’s going to happen,” Roger scooted closer to him. “We are going to return to England. We are going to continue making music . We are going to show angels that they have the ability to be  _ people. _ We are going to change things. I can’t do that if you are not by my side.”

 

Brian felt his throat go tight and he blinked away a sudden burning in his eyes. “You really think so?”

 

“I know so,” Roger grinned. 

 

The angel leaned forward to kiss him sweetly, pulling back only to whisper against his lips. “There is no one else I would rather take down the whole angel owning system with besides you.”

 

“Even if that means you lose your freedom?” Even saying the words hurt.

 

“I’m free when I’m with you,” Roger gave him a sad smile. “Some stupid fucked up laws can’t change that.”

 

They sat and talked for most of the night, curled up next to each other until the sun began to peek over the tall buildings surrounding them. Brian, with coaxing and soft eyes, finally confessed his insecurities. Roger whispered about his fears and the overwhelming responsibility he now felt towards the angels trapped in servitude. 

 

Tears were shed.

 

Kisses were shared.

 

Hearts were bared. 

 

By the time they had to leave for the airport they were drained physically and emotionally. Their belongings were packed up in silence and they joined a clearly hungover John and Freddie in the car. 

 

“Last chance,” Brian whispered as they approached the plane but Roger just lifted his chin and boarded. 

 

But, when they sat down, Roger curled his legs up a bit and stared out the window. Brian tried to give Roger some space, not wanting to upset him further but then he saw the tears flashing in his eyes. 

 

“Rog?”

 

“I’m fine,” Roger’s voice cracked but he gave him a tiny smile. “I’m fine. I just...I didn’t think I would ever see free angels and it hurts to leave it.”

 

“Do you regr-”

 

“No,” Roger shook his head and scrubbed at his face. “No. It makes me want to try even harder. I guess I just...need to...I dunno.”

 

Brian scooted closer and wrapped his arm around Roger’s shoulders, rubbing his arm lightly. He kept holding him as the plane took off and he kept holding him as Roger started shaking with sobs, mourning the possible life he was leaving behind. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Brian whispered and Roger sniffled. 

 

“Me too.”


	47. Chapter 47

Recording music videos was the most annoying thing in the world. 

 

Freddie thought he would love the cameras on him, the thrill that hundreds if not thousands of eyes would be watching the performance for years to come. Then, he realized that so many of the recordings were completely phoney. 

 

The audiences were instructed to cheer at specific times, the instruments were fake, and they had to pretend to play along. It was a bit insulting. 

 

He watched, bored, as they moved audience members around. Technicians scurried around, setting up lights and putting the pyrotechnics up. He glared, annoyed, as one of them pushed past him a bit while holding an actual bucket of explosions. 

 

Brian rolled his eyes, clearly equally annoyed. 

 

It was fine. He could go over his own lyrics on his own and hopefully they could get started soon.  _ Ooh, ooh yeah, oooooh yeah. Get your party gown, get your pigtail down. _

 

“Alright gentlemen!” The director clapped his hands. “I think we’re ready to begin!”

 

“Fucking finally,” Freddie grumbled, moving towards the mic. 

 

“We’ll start with the guitar and then the pyrotechnics will go off,” he looked over excited. “And then you just do your thing, okay?”

  
  


“Let’s just get started already!” Roger shouted, getting a grin from John and a frown from the director. He rolled his eyes and the cameras moved into position. 

 

The lights flashed and the music started, Brian’s fingers moving along the strings but not really playing them. He leaned into the instrument, putting on the show that Freddie knew everyone wanted to see. His own hands stroked the microphone and he shot the camera a sultry look, lifting his shoulders. 

 

Then there was a blast of sound.

 

Then there was an explosion  _ much larger than expected. _

 

Freddie jumped, spinning around to see what the hell had happened. It sounded like a bomb had gone off. The buckets surrounding Roger’s risers were smoking but Roger was nowhere to be seen. 

 

Panic clawed up Freddie’s throat and his microphone slipped out of suddenly numb fingers. He saw a pile of blue feathers just off the side of the riser and a cry burst from his lips when he saw the flames.

 

“Rog!” He jumped over the cords, followed closely by both Brian and John trying to untangle themselves from their instruments. 

 

The angel lay on the floor, clearly dazed, as flames quickly started engulfing his right wing. The feathers lit up quickly, much quicker than Freddie thought possible. After a heartbeat of pure panic, he ripped off his white jacket and tried his best to smother the flames. Brian joined in with his own jacket and in just a few seconds the flames were extinguished. 

 

For one fleeting, hopeful moment Freddie thought everything would be alright. It would just be a crazy accident that they would all laugh about later over drinks. Then, he pulled his jacket back and blue feathers pulled along with it, melted into a waxy substance. 

 

Roger let out a sharp gasp, glazed eyes becoming more coherent.

 

“Oh God,” Brian breathed, dropping to his knees next to Roger. “Hey, hey. You okay?”

 

“Is...is my wing still there?” Roger asked weakly, turning his face away. 

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Brian nodded and Freddie could see the panic rising up in him. His wing was there but the feathers had practically melted from the tip to about halfway to the first joint. Some of the feathers were blackened and dissolved into ash at first touch.

 

Matthew, the angel with the dark wings who served as their medic, hurried to them with a med kit and a grimace. He knelt down by Roger, mumbling reassurances as he checked through the feathers. 

 

“We need to call an ambulance,” John’s voice was high pitched and worried. 

 

“No need,” Matthew leaned in closer, eyes squinting. “It’s just the feathers...the skin is a bit reddened but it’ll heal no problem. I’ve seen worse. You close to your molt?”

 

Roger nodded, teeth gritted. 

 

“See? We can just pull the most burnt ones and then in a few weeks you’ll be right as rain,” Matthew gave him a smile, glancing up at them. “Besides, no ambulance would come for an angel.”

 

The truth of that felt sour and bitter in Freddie’s mouth. Roger sat up, wing held out at a strange angle. The soft parts of the feather were all but gone, resulting in the vanes exposed. It looked like the legs of a terrible, twisted spider. 

 

He finally looked at his own wings and let out a broken gasp. 

 

“Gents? Can we get reset?” The director called out and Freddie whirled around at him, worry quickly morphing into absolute fury.

 

“Reset? Roger was on fucking fire! We’re not recording today!” He snapped. “We’re fucking done!”

 

The director sputtered angrily but they ignored him, getting Roger to his feet instead. Roger grimaced but his face quickly regained its color and he was able to stand somewhat steadily. 

 

“Didn’t anyone check the buckets? Did anyone think that putting explosions that close was a bad idea?” John ranted, hands waving. “Christ! You blew him off his fucking stool! He could have been killed!”

 

“I’m fine Deaks,” Roger mumbled. “I just need to rest.”

 

He wasn’t able to tuck his wing in, instead letting it hang at his side. Brian hovered next to him, hands on his arm in an attempt to help him walk to the dressing rooms. It was clear that he had twisted his ankle or something in the fall as he walked. 

 

Freddie felt his hands shake at his side, wanting nothing more than to go throttle the director. He stormed over and the director shrank back. He was a few steps away when John grabbed his arm, pulling him back.

 

“Not the time Fred.”

 

He spun around, ready to unleash his anger, when he saw the worry in John’s eyes.  

 “Roger’s fine. He’s a little shaken up and probably in a bit of pain but he’s fine,” John pulled on his arm. “I want to beat the shit out of that piece of trash too but we need to think of Rog. Can’t really help him if you’re in prison.”

 

Freddie glared at the director who tried to inch away, terrified. With a final snarl, he turned on his heel and stalked to the dressing rooms. He wanted to burst through the doors and scream out his frustrations, but he had to stop when he heard soft voices.  

 

“Hush, hush,” Brian whispered. “It’s fine. It’ll grow back. It’s still beautiful, it’s-”

 

“It’s nothing!” Roger snapped back. “It’s fucking fine Bri.”

 

“No, you’re-”

 

“I want to finish the shoot,” he glanced up at Freddie and John hovering in the doorway. “I don’t give a shit what my wing looks like. I’m fine!”

 

Freddie swallowed and tried his best not to let his eyes drift to the blackened quills jutting out of the bone. “Roger, we don’t have to.”

 

“No, Matt gave me some pain meds and I can drum,” he looked between them. “It’s good, it’s okay. Let people see.”

 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Brian frowned. 

 

“If we stop the shoot I’ll be blamed. They’ll see me as weak and fragile and...I don’t want that,” Roger’s eyes flashed. “I can do it.”

 

Freddie understood what Roger’s concerns were the moment they stepped back out. The director frowned at them, shaking his head when they insisted on continuing. 

 

“I’m sorry...but it isn’t the look we’re going for,” the director wrung his hands. “We can shoot again when he’s not damaged.”

 

“Fuck it,” Freddie glared. “We’re recording now or not at all.”

 

They threw everything into the show, explosions dialed back however. Freddie kept glancing back at Roger, noticing that both Brian and John did the same. The angel was playing as well as always and his wings extended, burnt wing on full display.

 

It looked horrifying. 

 

It looked...powerful.

 

He sagged forward a bit when the finished and Brian was at his side in a heartbeat, worry clear in his eyes. Freddie watched them both sadly, noting the clear discomfort on Roger’s face. Still, the angel kept his chin high and shrugged off Brian’s fluttering hands. 

 

Their friend was brave and strong. 

 

The rest of the world needed to see him like that too.


	48. Chapter 48

As much as Roger loved Miami, and he did, he hated the meetings.

 

Maybe it was the fact that he just couldn’t stay focused for more than a few minutes, often folding their papers into little airplanes halfway through despite the glares from John and Brian. Maybe it was because going over band finances was _boring_. Maybe it was because all of the little details really just didn’t interest him.

 

Regardless, he was halfway through his third paper airplane when Miami snapped his fingers in front of him to get his attention (and Freddie’s who was admiring his new design).

 

“You done?” Their manager looked annoyed and Roger shrugged a bit, wings curling in.

 

“Yeah…”

 

“Great, on to publicity,” Miami sighed and flipped a page. “Freddie, you have been requested for an interview with the BBC, they sounded pretentious and obnoxious which you will fit right in with. The whole band is being asked to do a photoshoot for Circus magazine and a little chat. And, Roger, you have been invited to be on Saturday Scene with Sally James.”

 

Roger blinked at him.

 

“Wait…just Roger?” Brian asked, frowning.

 

“Yes, she just wanted to interview Roger,” a look of concern flashed across Miami’s face. “I asked them to send the questions and they just seem like…regular questions she would ask anyone. You can say no, I don’t know if she’ll stick to the questions or if she’ll go off book.”

 

Roger balked a bit at that.

 

“One of us should be there with him,” Brian argued and Roger winced even more.

 

“To act like my handler? No thank you,” he huffed, twisting his fingers a bit. “I’ll do it.”

 

Miami tapped his papers against his hands a bit. “I can be there to make sure everything goes smoothly. If it’s your reputation, your independence, your worried about then that could work.”

 

Brian looked a bit crushed that he wouldn’t get to be there but finally nodded.

 

A little thrill ran through Roger at the thought of being on camera by himself. People would be listening to him and only him. This could be his chance to show the world that he wasn’t just a brainless decoration on the stage.

 

He left that meeting feeling confident and excited.

 

Then his thoughts started overwhelming him. What if she asked questions he wasn’t prepared for? What if she wanted to make this some kind of experience to show that angels weren’t meant to be on their own? What if he damaged Queen’s reputation?

 

His nerves were twisting painfully in his stomach by the time he was getting his hair and makeup done at the studio. Quite a few people happened to casually stop by, clearly finding an excuse to take a moment to stare at the angel they knew was going to be on the show.

 

The girl doing his hair was lovely. She teased at it with a comb, jabbering on and on about the barista who had made her coffee wrong _four times_ that morning. Not even once had she said anything or treated him differently until the very end when she paused awkwardly.

 

“So…I don’t know how to style…those…” she frowned and he realized she meant his wings.

 

“Oh! You don’t have to…do they look bad?” He fanned them out a bit to see in the mirror, looking for any twisted feathers. All he could see were the still healing feathers from the music video and knew that they weren’t exactly the pristine feathers they probably wanted.

 

“No! They’re beautiful! I just didn’t know if there was something you wanted me to do,” she blushed and he grinned, shaking his head.

 

“I’m fine,” he glanced to his side to see an assistant hovering in the doorway. He gave them the signal for ten minutes left and the hairstylist went back to her bubbly self, straightening up his collar and waving him down the hall to the studio.

 

There was an explosion of color with an overly tinseled tree in the corner and posters lining the walls. He reached up to fiddle with his necklace (a gift from Freddie when they spent hours picking out the perfect outfit) and followed the assistant to the couch.

 

“So, you must be Roger Taylor!” A kind voice startled him and he turned to see a woman walking towards him, dressed in a smart green blouse and a pencil skirt. She held a hand out for him to shake. “I would recognize those beautiful wings anywhere! I’m Sally James.”

 

He half rose up to shake her hand, awkwardly sitting back down. “It’s wonderful to meet you.”

 

Sally beamed at him. “Is this set up good? We can get a chair in with no back if that helps. I know you hurt your wing earlier.”

 

“It’s fine,” Roger smiled tightly. “It doesn’t hurt anymore, just looks a little rough.”

 

“Well, we’ll be mostly zoomed in on your face so it won’t be visible. I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable,” it didn’t seem like she was joking or trying to tease him. “We’ll get started in just a moment.”

 

Okay.

 

This was going to go well.

 

People here were kind and didn’t treat him lesser.

 

Miami was lingering behind the camera, sharp eyes on him.

 

This was going to go well.

 

“And we are recording in five, four, three, two…” the camera man counted down before pointing to Sally who smiled brightly at the camera.

 

“I’d now like to welcome to Saturday Scene, Roger Taylor,” she turned to face him. “Hello Roger.”

 

“Hello,” he tried his best not to squirm at the attention, managing only to straighten up a bit and put on a smile.

 

“Now you are just coming off of a very successful tour through America and Japan,” Sally kept that kind smile on her face. “How was that?”

 

“It was wonderful. It’s always so exhilarating to feel the energy of the crowd,” he felt himself becoming more relaxed at Sally’s nods and reassuring smile. “We had some huge audiences and they were just fantastic. It’s also so fun to explore parts of the world that we might not have ever gotten the chance to see.”

 

“And now you’ve just come out with a new album!” She pulled out A Day at the Races. “This album was highly anticipated after A Night at the Opera, which was also hugely successful.”

 

“That’s correct,” he smiled, feeling a rush of pride in their album.

 

“And you wrote a song for this album as well. It’s called Drowse and it is very different from the rockers we have heard from you in the past, what’s the reason for that?”

 

At that Roger felt his face split into a wide grin. No one else had _ever_ recognized the songs he had written. No one else had cared. Not only was Sally talking about the song but she was curious about his abilities as a songwriter.

 

“I suppose. I suppose I have a bit of a…rock and roll tag,” he shrugged lightly. “But I have my quiet moments as well. Maybe I was feeling a bit melancholy.”

 

“And you are the first angel to ever have a recorded song on an album,” Sally continued. “The first angel to ever be played on the radio, the first angel to play on television, the first angel to go on tour, and the first angel to…give a televised interview. How does that make you feel?”

 

Roger laughed to himself, ducking his head a bit. “It makes me feel like I’m excited to see who’s next.”

 

The rest of the interview went smoothly and it felt like it was far too soon by the time he shook Sally’s hand and said his goodbyes. He felt like he was walking on clouds as he and Miami climbed into the car, starting towards the flat.

 

“You did amazingly,” Miami grinned at him and Roger beamed. “I’m sure there will be a flood of requests after that.”

 

 

They were all up at the crack of dawn on Saturday, sitting with their bowls of cereal on the couch and waiting for the program to start.

 

It was surreal to see himself on screen. He was a freaking rock star, a rock star who was being interviewed on a popular program. It almost made him choked up a bit with emotion, hands clutching his half full bowl of soggy cornflakes.

 

“And now all the teeny boppers in England are in love with you,” Freddie crooned, grinning wide.

 

“No,” Roger rolled his eyes, but his cheeks heated up.

 

Brian laughed and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, nearly making him spill his bowl. “Oh yes they are! In no time every girl is going to have your poster on their wall. They’ll be mooning over you.”

 

“Stop!” Roger giggled.

 

“How could they not fall in love with you?” Brian laughed and pulled him in for a kiss. “It’s just so damn easy.”

 

“Ugh, stop it. You’re both gross,” John complained but he was smiling.


	49. Chapter 49

When Queen saved her Lilianna was a few days away from being put down.

 

Her previous master had decided that the medication for her seizure disorder was too big a price to pay and she was slapped with a “medically unsound” label. It didn’t matter that her seizures were infrequent. It didn’t matter that she was able to function normally. It was that stupid extra price tag. 

 

Queen didn’t care. They made sure she had her medication and one of the other angels, Matthew, checked in on her frequently. It still boggled her mind that an angel was trusted enough to be the band’s medic. She watched with disbelief as Brian and John,  _ humans _ , let him treat their ripped up fingers after shows. 

 

It took a few weeks but she relaxed into her new life. She adored giggling along with Freddie’s jokes as she carefully applied his make up. She loved Brian’s quiet contemplation as she styled his hair. She greatly enjoyed John’s sly quips when she handed him his costumes.

 

But most of all, she loved styling Roger. 

 

At first she had been beyond shy, not wanting to mess up this opportunity she had. She knew the other angel was highly prized for his looks and didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize it. Of course she had also heard the whispered rumors of how he was going to change everything. 

 

But he was kind to her. He always greeted her with a coca-cola and a smile, only complaining a bit if she tugged too hard on his hair. Lilianna did her best to make him look as good as possible, feeling an incredible sense of pride in seeing her work in pictures and video. 

 

It was a normal day when she got a request from Roger for a haircut. 

 

The other angel beamed at her when she knocked on their door, following him into the half packed living room. She knew that with the new success of their album the band members were able to purchase their own homes in the city. Roger was to move in with Brian, something he had complained about throughout their last meeting.

 

_ It’s not that I don’t want to live with him, obviously I do! It’s that I can’t pay for my own home or own my own property. It’s stupid. _

 

“So, I think I want to cut off all my hair,” he said simply, like he had been discussing the weather.

 

“What?” Lilianna froze in place, eyes widening. 

 

“That magazine there,” he motioned towards a magazine resting on the coffee table. It still astounded her that he could read, something that inspired her to give it a try as well. “Says that ‘Roger is the perfect embodiment of celestial beauty. With his long blond hair, large blue eyes, and elegant wings he is practically a piece of art.’”

 

“That doesn’t sound too bad?” Lilliana offered. 

 

Roger gave her a look and rolled his eyes. “I don’t want people to see me as an angelic cherub or whatever. I want them to see me as a rock and roll drummer. I’m a rockstar damn it!” 

 

She couldn’t help but smile at that, watching his feathers fluff up a bit in annoyance. “So...you want a more rock and roll look?”

 

“Yeah! Can you do that?” His eyes sparkled when she nodded and pointed at a chair. 

 

Lilliana brushed her fingers through his long hair, her own grey wings pulling in a bit with nerves. He had such lovely hair and she hated the idea that she could ruin it. Her eyes trailed down to the half healed feathers on his wing.

 

“It’s fine,” he turned wide eyes to her, a kind smile on his face. “It’s okay. Just go for it.”

 

With a quick breath, she snipped off a strand of hair. After that it became a bit easier, his hair falling onto the ground in piles. 

 

“How are things going with you and Malcom?” Roger asked, grinning when she blushed. Malcom was another angel who had been saved from the same shelter she had been. She had hoped that they were being a bit subtle with it, apparently not.

 

“I don’t know what you mean,” she clipped a few other strands. 

 

“Uh huh,” Roger laughed. “I’m sure.”

 

He laughed louder when Lilianna pulled at his hair a bit. “I’ve heard that your new home is something spectacular.”

 

“I suppose,” Roger shrugged. “I’m kind of sad to leave this flat though. I know it’s small and...not the nicest but it was the first home I’ve ever had.”

 

Lilliana understood that. A bed had just been a place to lay your head, a place to sleep for a bit. Home was a foreign concept and one that she was just starting to understand. 

 

“And the next one will be your home as well.”

 

“It’ll be Brian’s home,” Roger grumbled. 

 

“No, it’ll be both of yours,” she turned to start working on his bangs. “A name on a deed doesn’t mean anything. A few scribbles on a paper doesn’t change things.”

 

She placed the scissors on the table and ruffled his hair, looking critically at his much shorter style. It looked good, really good. Lilliana was actually quite proud of herself. This was the rock and roll look he was going for, no one could call him a cherub now. 

 

“What are you going to do first when we are all freed?” She blurted out, feeling her face burn when he raised an eyebrow at her. “When you get us all freed.”

 

Roger’s hands dropped into his lap and his face screwed up a bit. “I know that you all think I’m some kind of...savior of whatever but I’m not. I’m just as scared and lost as the rest of you.”

 

Lilliana wasn’t stupid. She knew that Roger wasn’t some reincarnated mythical being. She knew he wasn’t anything more than her. But...she also saw the power and potential in him. Roger Taylor was the first angel who had  _ ever _ shown others that they could be something more. 

 

“And you’re making them run scared too,” she smiled. “You don’t see the difference you’re making? At the very least, you’re inspiring angels everywhere. There will be change, and you are going to be the one to spark the flames of that change.”

 

He looked thoughtful and reached over to squeeze her hand. “I don’t want to let you all down.”

 

“You won’t,” Lilliana smiled. 

 

“Then...I suppose the first thing I would do would be to buy a stupidly expensive sports car,” a grin lit up his face. “What are you going to do when we are all freed?”

 

_ When _ .

 

Not if, when.

 

“I’d like to start my own business, maybe a salon or something,” she shrugged. “Maybe get married...I don’t know.”

 

“To Malllcommmm?” Roger sang, dodging her flying hand. 

 

They were giggling when the front door opened and Brian stepped in. He was so busy leafing through his mail that he didn’t see them at first but then he glanced up and froze entirely.

 

“Your...your hair!” 

 

Lilliana saw a series of emotions flicker through Roger’s face as he nervously combed his fingers through his much shorter hair. Nerves twisted at her stomach as she watched them both.

 

“I...I wanted a change. Is it...is it bad? I thought she-” then Brian took long strides towards him and Lilliana flinched back. 

 

Instead of the expected hit, Brian grabbed his shoulders and pulled him in for a deep kiss. Roger laughed into the kiss, relieved, as the guitarist gripped him tightly. 

 

“It looks great, amazing really,” Brian pulled back, sounding a bit short of breath. “Like...God, it’s so good.”

 

Roger flicked amused eyes towards her. “Lilliana, I don’t mean to be rude but-”

 

“But you’re going to have to leave,” Brian finished for him. 

 

“I expect a thank you gift,” she grinned and grabbed her pack, slipping out the front door as Roger shrieked with laughter. 

 

It was nice, beautiful really. When they were freed this could become their new normal. They could be happy, choose to be happy. They could be in happy relationships, choose a life where they would feel fulfilled. 

 

This was going to be their future. 


	50. Chapter 50

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay...so I honestly know so little about politics. Like so little. I know even less about politics in England. I did my best haha

From the moment he stepped into the recording studio everything was abuzz with energy.

 

Roger raised his eyebrow at the whispers and stares, cigarette loosely held between his lips. He wasn’t in the mood for whatever gossip was flying around now. At least, not without his usual few cups of coffee in the morning.

 

Then he saw that John and Freddie were talking softly in the corner of the room, eyes wide. 

 

It had to be  _ really _ good gossip then.

 

“What’s going on then?” Brian asked, just as confused. 

 

Everyone turned to stare at them and the room fell silent. It was Crystal who spoke up first. “You must not watch the news in the morning.”

 

Not that morning. They had been...preoccupied. 

 

Moving was exhausting after all.

 

“New celebrity drama?” Roger filled his cup of coffee from the steaming pot. 

 

“There’s a new law being proposed in the House of Parliament,” Crystal said slowly. “For the abolishment of angel ownership.”

 

There was a crash as Roger’s cup fell to the ground and shattered. 

 

“What?” He breathed, wings high and trembling slightly. 

 

“Yeah,” Crystal let out a short laugh. “It’s being put forth today. The first reading is going to be done this morning. We’ve already got the telly up and ready to go.”

 

Roger practically bounced on the balls of his feet, wings flapping slightly in excitement. He could hardly breathe, his lungs and heart feeling like they were trapped in a clamp. There was a strange feeling in the air, a sense of  _ something  _ greater.

 

“We can be free today?” He asked, breathless.

 

“No, they’ll propose the bill to the house today,” Brian finally spoke up, making Roger spin around. “It’s just put on the table. It could take...weeks, months, years even.”

 

“But at the end, angels would be free?” 

 

“If a bunch of rich old men decide to give up their unpaid labor and toys,” Freddie quipped and the first doubt darkened the room. “But, maybe if they are convinced...maybe if it was lobbied properly and if...”

 

“If?” 

 

“The only thing they might be more afraid of than losing their angels is losing their votes. If we get the people interested and invested in angels rights, they’ll have to vote for it,” John’s eyes flashed. “We just have to let people know.”

 

“We’re becoming more and more popular. Other musicians might want to help too,” Freddie grinned. “They’ll have to pass the bill or they won't be reelected.”

 

Roger raised his eyebrow, taking a long drag from his cigarette. “So...we just have to convince everyone in the world that owning an angel is wrong?”

 

“How hard can that be?” Brian huffed out a laugh. 

 

“Are you saying I’m not convincing?” Roger felt a wide smile spread across his face. “Brian...we can be free.”

 

“I know,” Brian wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him in tight.

 

There was no hope of having a productive rehearsal after that. The angels on staff were almost giddy with excitement and everyone else was far too distracted to do anything. They sat around, half listening to the drone of the House of Commons on the small black and white television in the corner. 

 

“Hey!” Ratty shouted out, getting everyone’s attention. “It’s on! It’s on!”

 

The man announcing the bill was a thin, tall man with thick glasses. He cleared his throat. “I’d like to propose a dismissal of angel ownership. Scientists have shown that angels are intelligent, thoughtful creatures on par with humans and that owning them goes against our values. Please consider approving this bill to introduce many more loyal English citizens.”

 

And that was done.

 

“That’s it?” Roger stuttered out. “That’s all? Freeing who knows how many people and  _ that _ is all that is said?”

 

“It’s a start,” Brian squeezed his hand. “Now we do our part.”

 

“I’ll do a hell of a lot more than blab a few sentences,” Roger mumbled, eyes narrowed. “I’ll say so much more than that.”


	51. Chapter 51

All his life Brian had dreamed of living in a big house.

 

It wasn’t a rich thing or a materialistic thing. He didn’t want four indoor pools or a hedge maze or anything, he just wanted space. After living his whole life in cramped small spaces, he liked the idea of having space to stretch his legs out. He liked the idea of having space to sneak off and be alone for a bit.

 

And they had the house for it. It was more money than he had ever spent in his life but it was well worth it. Their home was beautiful with a nice large garden and roof access for Roger who enjoyed sitting on it and letting the wind ruffle his feathers.

 

And now it was a mess of people.

 

Angels and humans alike milled about in their sitting room, chatting about the bill and comparing notes. Experts shared research and a speech was being written. In the middle of it all was Roger. The angel had a sense of authority about him, a power that Brian had never seen before.

 

It was something magical.

 

He didn’t mind sharing his space, his peace and quiet. This was their future they were fighting for. The argument had to be good, the speech had to be convincing. Their supports in court were few and they desperately needed to sway more to their side.

 

Brian felt like he was fighting a battle and was terrified to share his thoughts with anyone else, not wanting to speak his doubt into the universe. Honestly, he wasn’t so sure they would win. He thought this fight would end with them living life like always, having to suffer through the same injustices. Their little fight would be laughed at and mocked.

 

It would end.

 

It would end badly.

 

Still, he put on a smile and whispered encouragement into Roger’s ears when the angel was too exhausted to even lift his head at night.

 

It was wearing on him though. He was tired of seeing random angels and people wandering through his home. He was tired of seeing their desperate, hopeful faces. He was tired of living in what felt like a warzone.

 

And maybe he showed some of his frustration when Lilianna and Malcom showed up at their door at eleven at night.

 

Brian put on a tense smile and stepped aside, letting them both in and calling for Roger. He wanted to just vanish back into their bedroom and fall asleep, the thought of sitting up and playing host for another minute seeming almost too draining.

 

Then Lilianna burst into tears and he wished he could just disappear into the floor.

 

Roger seemed equally awkward around the sobbing angel, patting at her shoulders. He cast desperate glances at Brian, narrowing his eyes until the human went to make them all some tea. God, but this was all so tiring.

 

He loaded up the tray with steaming cups of tea, little cups of milk and sugar, and then walked back into the sitting room. Lilianna was on the couch, head buried in her hands and she shook with cries. Malcom sat next to her, shushing her softly, and Roger stood nearby with one of the most serious expressions on his face that Brian had ever seen.

 

“Lilianna is pregnant,” he said softly as Brian set down the tray.

 

“Oh…” Brian blinked at him before turning to the couple. “Congratulations!”

 

But…obviously it wasn’t something to exactly celebrate. Lilianna broke down again, hand moving to clasp her stomach as she shivered and shuddered.

 

“You are her owner Brian. You, John and Freddie,” Roger’s voice was soft. “But you are not registered breeders. It is illegal to breed angels if you are not a registered breeding organization.”

 

“And what does that mean for us?” Brian asked, heart sinking.

 

Roger’s mouth set in a firm line. “That the child will be seized when it is born and sold to a kennel. It’s supposed to ‘protect’ the angels so bad breeding isn’t encouraged.”

 

Now Brian understood.

 

“That won’t happen,” he shook his head and Lilianna let out a whimper. “It can’t. We’ll…we’ll buy the baby too.”

 

“And you can, when the child is five,” Roger sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “But it is illegal to purchase angel infants.”

 

“So, what do we do?”

 

Roger and Malcom shared a long, telling look before Roger just sighed. “Nothing. We can’t do anything. That’s the fucking law.”

 

Just minutes ago Brian had been desperate to go to sleep, wanting nothing more than to shut out the annoyances that hovered around him. He had seen this fight as nothing more than hopeless. In a few weeks they would listen to old, rich men decide that angels weren’t worth their freedom. There would be tears and then things would go back to normal.

 

But…not for everyone. This child would be taken from its mother, a woman that he had started to consider a friend. Their lives would be crushed, living in a false freedom while their child was thrown to the wolves.

 

That was what Roger was fighting for. How selfish had Brian been? How had he only thought of himself through all of this? Had he only seen the problems as _their problems_?

 

“Lilianna,” Brian spoke up, waiting for the angel to power her wings a bit and look at him. “Your baby will be born free. You are going to raise it and love it and it will be free.”

 

She wiped at her eyes. “But-“

 

“No, the bill will be passed. Angels will be freed,” it wasn’t the normal false lies he would mumble. This was honest. “And your family will be together.”

 

He had to believe it. It had to be true.

 

Because right then the three angels looked at him with such despair in their eyes, desperate for some reassurance. He couldn’t keep seeing it as a fake promise, pretty words to make people feel better. There was too much at stake.

 

He was the one with the power here. He had to use it.

 

He had to be committed.

 

He would be.


	52. Chapter 52

Roger liked parties now.

 

He felt  _ powerful. _

 

Now that they were big enough to actually choose who came to their events no one messed with him. No one grabbed at his wings or leered at him. He was the one people showed respect to. He was the one honored tonight.

 

He was the one who got a bit tipsy on champagne. 

 

It wasn’t his fault really. The pretty girls at the bar batted their eyes at him and kept refilling his glass with the bubbles. Of course he wasn’t interested but it was still fun to flirt a bit. It was fun to have people chase him instead of just assuming that he was theirs for the taking.

 

“Hey,” Miami approached him, raising an eyebrow at his overenthusiastic grin. “Interview request. Mind tearing yourself away from your adoring fans?”

 

Brian rolled his eyes and squeezed his shoulder, giving him a long look. Something warmed in Roger’s stomach, noticing the protectiveness in the taller man’s eyes. 

 

“Blow off these bores?” Roger teased, throwing his arms out and sloshing a good amount of champagne onto the floor. “Oh...but I’ll need a refill.”

 

A busty redhead pushed her way through to pour him a generous serving, blushing when he gave her a wink. He made his way through the crowd to the young woman sitting primly at the edge of a couch. She perked up seeing him and fiddled with her microphone for a moment, motioning for the camera man to pay attention.

 

“Mr. Taylor!” She beamed. “Thank you for taking the time to chat with me!”

 

“Of course,” he smiled, feeling a little fuzzy. It was fine. He was fine.

 

There was a small count down, he took a long drink of his champagne and she turned to him. “Congratulations, you are number one on the hit line at the moment. How’s that for loyalty?”

 

Roger knew a slight goofy smile was spreading across his face at that. He was proud of their work damn it, he was allowed to be. “I think it’s great. I quite enjoy all this battle between um...and whoever...and ex...no...whatever. It’s very enjoyable and I must admit I do often  _ tune _ in and it’s nice to hear if it’s not...um...it’s a very good instant reaction to what you see...put out.”

 

Nailed it.

 

The interviewer’s smile was a bit tight at that. “Only Queen could come up with the title We Are the Champions. Where’s the modesty gone?”

 

“Well there isn’t any,” Roger said point blank, grinning. “There’s no modesty whatsoever. We wrote this...maybe a bit prematurely about the bill for angel freedom being passed. You’ve heard of that I’m sure. It is going to pass. The people who give a damn about making the world a better place are going to be the champions.”

 

“So you think it is going to pass?”

 

“As long as people vote,” Roger laughed airily, sipping at his drink. “People need to show up to make a difference...nothing is going to happen if laziness prevails. I’ll be...living life with...my name on a contract until...um...until people realize we aren’t brainless. There’s the whole we will keep fighting till the end thing...and we will.”

 

“Thank you,” she smiled, a bit more at ease after that. “I hope you enjoy your party. Congratulations to you.”

 

“Oh I will,” he practically sang. “Because I can. Because in these walls I’m a free man.”

 

She actually grinned at that as he wandered back into the party, wings held high and slightly out. After spending most of his life trying to take up less space Roger was enjoying doing the opposite now. There was a sense of satisfaction in having people move out of your way. 

 

“Hello superstar,” Brian smiled warmly as he walked up, laughing when Roger practically forced himself under his arm. The angel preened when Brian let his hand drift down to scratch through the downy feathers peeking out of the back of his jacket. 

 

This was where he wanted to be.

 

He wanted to be held by the man he loved.

 

He...maybe wanted more.

 

“Can we go?” He mumbled, pressing his face into Brian’s neck. “I wanna go.”

 

“Go where? Back to the room?” He nodded, lulled by the vibrations of Brian’s voice. “Why? Weren’t you having fun?”

 

“So much fun,” he sighed. “And I want to keep having fun.”

 

“What? Oh!” He grinned at Brian’s startle. “Oh! Okay!”

 

“Yeah?” Roger pulled his head away to laugh at Brian’s surprised face.

 

He didn’t answer, just grabbed Roger’s wrist and steered him to the hotel elevator. The music was pounding and alcohol was flowing, no one would miss them. He laughed, curling his wings around Brian as they started kissing even before the elevator doors closed. 

 

“I like being free,” Roger mumbled against his lips when they fell into bed together. “It’s something I didn’t dare dream of but...but here I am. I’m at a party celebrating something I helped make. I’m being interviewed like I matter. I’m about to be fucked silly by a man I  _ chose _ .”

 

“Freedom looks good on you,” Brian chuckled, nosing into his neck. 

 

Roger shoved him onto his back and climbed into his lap, wings spreading out. He felt in control, powerful. He couldn’t help the grin as he pushed Brian back fully on the bed. 

 

“Uh uh,” he tutted, letting his hips roll as his wings spread out further. “I’m making the choice tonight. Yeah?”

 

“Yeah,” Brian’s quick nod would have been funny if not for how turned on he was. 

 

For a moment Roger felt a twinge of shyness. He had put on this air of confidence, of being in control, and at the last moment lost his nerve. Old, poisonous thoughts twisted in his head and he almost begged it off. 

 

_ You aren’t in control here. _

 

_ You never were. _

 

_ He might let you play at it but you have no power here.  _

 

“Rog?” Brian’s voice was soft and he reached up to cup his cheek. “You okay?”

 

There was a part of him, a lingering small shriveled part of him that flinched back and trembled with fear, that wanted to bat away his hand. The part of him that wanted to submit and let it happen.

 

He ignored that part.

 

“Mmhmm,” he hummed, turning to kiss his palm. “You?”

 

“I’m certainly not complaining about my current position,” Brian grinned, looking beautiful and carefree with his hair spread out on the pillows. 

 

Roger leaned forward to kiss him deeply, moaning as their hardening cocks brushed against the other. Suddenly overwhelmed with desire, Roger scooted back and pulled off his pants before motioning Brian to do the same. 

 

When they were naked again they clung together, breathing in each other’s breath and kissing deeply. Brian brushed his hands through Roger’s shorter hair, smiling softly at him.

 

“I want you to be on top this time,” Brian mumbled and Roger went perfectly still. Fear gripped at his chest and he felt his hands tighten a bit on Brian’s arms. “If you want to that’s all.”

 

Did he?

 

He never had before. He had never had the chance before. 

 

“I don’t know,” the earlier buzz of champagne was gone. 

 

“That’s alright,” Brian smiled. “I just thought you might like it. I thought you’d like to feel...how hot and tight it can be. I trust you.”

 

Roger shivered a bit at that. 

 

“Do you want to?”

 

“Oh yeah,” Brian nodded quickly. “I do. I want you to fucking take me apart. I want you to be completely in control.”

 

That made his mouth a bit dry. “Okay.”

 

Still, his hands trembled when Brian handed him the lube and his nerves nearly got the best of him when the taller man spread his long legs. First, Roger just let his hands wander. He was used to touching Brian but he wasn’t used to this. He wasn’t used to running his hands up his thighs, letting his fingers dip just between his cheeks. 

 

This was his show.

 

He was in control.

 

He had never felt so powerful, leaning over Brian and watching those pretty hazel eyes flutter as he pushed in. They rocked together, slowly at first and then faster and faster. His wings stretched out as pleasure overwhelmed him and he came gasping into Brian’s neck. A few pulls of his hand and Brian spilled over as well, writhing and whimpering. 

 

“Pretty good night,” Roger breathed, heart still pounding as they lay side by side. 

 

“An album release party, good champagne and outstanding sex? Pretty good is an understatement,” Brian teased, tickling down Roger’s chest with a stray feather. 

 

“They’re going to vote on the bill tomorrow,” Roger mumbled and turned into Brian. “It’s happening Brian.”

 

“You’re going to be free,” he smiled as Brian kissed the top of his head. “And you are going to get to go to whatever parties you want and drink whatever you want. You’ll be free to take whoever you want home, all those flirty barmaids.”

 

“So, I can pick out our third then?” Roger teased. “Of course, they might feel left out when I just latch onto you and ignore them.”

 

“Hmm,” Brian kissed him. “That would be rude.”

 

“Ah, but I would be free to be rude,” Roger grinned. “I’d be free to do whatever I want.”

 

“Damn straight,” Brian kissed him again. 


	53. Chapter 53

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is doing okay wherever they are! These are scary times so here is a hopeful chapter for ya! Stay healthy and safe!!

When Freddie got off the phone and said that they would be preforming at a free concert in the middle of the summer John was _pissed._

This was the first summer they had to themselves. No tour, no incredibly intense recording schedule. Freddie had promising to take him to the beach and making love in a beachside cabana seemed much preferable to sweating under stage lights for no pay. He had pouted and huffed about it as Freddie peppered his face with kisses.

 

“Come now love,” he cooed. “Richard Branson asked us to headline. He said there could be thousands of people.”

 

“Are those thousands of people going to bring me rum drinks on the beach?” John grumbled.

 

“Well…maybe? It isn’t out of the realm of possibilities,” the crooked smile didn’t make him feel any better. “But if you want to preform in tiny swimming trunks?”

 

“Do Rog and Brian want to do it too?” John rolled his eyes.

 

“Roger was super excited. It’s right before the election and he’s hopeful it’ll get more word out,” John’s stomach sunk at that. It had been so long since the bill was introduced that he had honestly forgotten about it. It was a bit frightening how easy it was to forget about things when they didn’t directly affect you.

 

“Then we’ll do it.”

 

Roger bounced into rehearsal two days later looking tan and refreshed. His wings were high and slightly open, a clear sign that he was in a wonderful mood.

 

“This is going to be amazing!” He trilled. “Getting that call was the perfect end to our beach holiday!”

 

Freddie looped an arm around John’s shoulders, pulling him in close. “Darling, I will buy you a whole damn beach after this.”

 

“You’d better.”

 

It took a bit of time to hammer out a set list and in the end, they just included all of their favorites to perform. They had less than a week of rehearse so they started right away. It was always so easy to play with them. John could follow Brian’s playing, play in perfect rhythm with Roger and add depth to Freddie’s magical voice.

 

Playing together always felt as easy as breathing.

 

On the day of the concert they arrived early, doing a sound check and then relaxing in a trailer until their set time. The sound of the crowd got louder and louder, Freddie eventually slipping out to see what was going on.

 

“It’s supposed to rain on election day,” Roger spoke up for the first time that day, drumsticks beating a nervous rhythm on his legs. “Historically that means that less people will vote. That’s bad right? An omen?”

 

Brian reached over to squeeze his arm. “If people care they will vote. You’ve been working so hard to make people care.”

 

“What if it isn’t enough?” Roger asked as the door opened.

 

“It’s going to be,” Freddie looked a bit bewildered. “There are over one hundred and fifty thousand people out there.”

 

“What?” John blurted out. The number itself sounded fake, he couldn’t fathom that many people in one place. “Seriously?”

 

“See? Plenty of people to make care about it,” Brian sounded a little faint at that and Roger went pale.

 

The angel didn’t speak for the rest of the time before their performance. He sat perfectly still except for his hands which nervously drummed. It wasn’t until they were called to the stage that he finally spoke.

 

“This is going to change everything,” he whispered.

 

“Yeah,” John patted his back, smiling softly. “You are going to change everything.”

 

The cheer that exploded from the crowd was unlike anything that John had ever heard. It was almost like a physical wall of sound, shoving him back as he stepped out. The sea of people was completely overwhelming but the people themselves were even more incredibly.

 

Blue wings.

 

People in the crowd were wearing blue wings.

 

It wasn’t everyone but enough that it caught his eye. Roger froze in place when he realized it, seemingly taken aback. Then he spread out his own wings and the crowd screamed. The angel grinned at that and threw his head back to laugh.

 

“Why hello my beautiful people and welcome to our little picnic in the park,” Freddie crooned into the mic. “So glad you could join us.”

 

Brian launched into the intro for A Day at the Races and they all fell in sync. John felt almost giddy as the crowd sung along with words that he had helped write. He almost got a bit teary when You’re My Best Friend got a particularly loud cheer and a wink to him from Freddie.

 

When they got to ’39 he was completely exhausted. The double bass felt heavy in his hands but Roger bounded up to the front of the stage, tambourine in hand. The angel grinned cheekily when the audience shrieked and Brian stepped up to the mic.

 

“We’re about to play one of our favorites,” another round of screams. “But first we have something incredibly important to talk about. Rog?”

 

John paused in his light strumming of the double bass and watched Roger carefully. The angel didn’t often speak to the crowds and this was one of the biggest. If the angel was nervous he didn’t show it.

 

“I love that I see so many beautiful wings out there,” he grinned motioning towards some of the wings. “But I know that we would love to see actual angels. People like you can make that happen. I can’t choose our leaders although they can absolutely choose how I am treated. The people currently in office want to keep angels as their pets and toys when we can be so much more.

 

We want to be your neighbors, your friends. We deserve the chance to actually live a life we want. I was lucky but there are so many who aren’t. Children are wrenched from their mother’s arms, angels are euthanized for injuries caused by their owners. They say it’s for our own good that we are owned but it’s for their benefit. Change doesn’t happen if good people do nothing. Vote on election day, choose leaders who will make a difference, choose freedom.”

 

The cheer was deafening. Roger looked a bit breathless at that. It was surreal to watch him looking out at the crowd, overwhelmed at the support. A chant started up, starting muffled but growing stronger and stronger.

 

“Free-dom! Free-dom! FREE-DOM!”

 

John had never heard anything like it before. It was loud enough that it hurt his ears a bit, intense enough that it made something in his chest tighten, and powerful enough that he felt tears sting his eyes.

 

Hope.

 

That’s what the feeling was.

 

Hope.


	54. Chapter 54

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something short and sweet for y'all :)
> 
> Everything is shutting down here which is completely crazy. I am a first grade teacher and am trying to figure out how to teach my six year olds, several which are in homeless shelters or refugees who don't have parents who speak English. It's been insanely stressful. This story has helped me find a bit of light in these times and I hope it brightens your day as well!
> 
> Stay safe and happy out there folks!

Brian had never really watched parliament.

 

Watching old men drone on and on wasn’t exactly his idea of entertaining television. In fact, his mother used to put it on to help him go to sleep as a child. But this, this was the most riveting thing he had ever seen.

 

How could these men honestly talk about the freedom of an entire race with the enthusiasm of a man in a coma? They even discussed an increase on taxes for dairy products right before. It was like the future of thousands wasn’t hanging in the balance.

 

Roger was perched on the edge of the sofa, eyes locked on the television. He completely ignored the small crowd around them, the band and band staff. Miami spoke softly with Leona by the kitchen and Lilianna held Malcom’s hand as tight as she could. This was what it must be like before a sentence was handed down, like time had crawled to a stop.

 

“Now to bring forward bill number five hundred and seventy two,” the speaker said emotionlessly but it caught the attention of everyone in the room. “Regarding the emancipation of the angel species.”

 

Without a word and without looking back, Roger stretched a hand out behind him and Brian wove their fingers together. The angel’s grip was tight and trembled slightly, soothed only by Brian’s thumb rubbing the back of his hand.

 

“The house will now vote on the passing on this bill,” the speaker glanced up. “Those in favor? Those opposed?”

 

Silence.

 

“The house of parliament has voted in favor of passing the bill for angel emancipation. The bill will be passed on to the house of lords for viewing,” there was a crack of a gavel.

 

“That’s it? It passed?” Roger blinked disbelievingly at the television.

 

Then there was an explosion of noise in the room, people and angels embracing. Roger still blinked at the screen, brow furrowed. “That’s it? Just a few people raising their hand and it went on?”

 

“It’s not law yet,” Brian said softly. “It still has to go through the house of lords.”

 

“But…but they voted for it,” he whispered. “It’s happening.”

 

“Yeah, it’s happening,” Brian grinned and pulled on Roger, wrapping his arms around the angel when he easily fell back against his chest. Then Roger laughed, bright and beautiful and turned his face into Brian’s neck.

 

“I could be free,” he whispered against the skin. “I always thought…I always thought it was…I always thought it was an impossible dream. All those years in the shelters and training kennels, those years with Tim…I didn’t allow myself to dream it could happen and now it can.”

 

“Because of you.”

 

Roger grinned up at him. “Maybe I helped.”

 

Brian laughed and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

 

When everyone first got to their house there was an air of apprehension. No one wanted to say anything, to maybe even jinx what was going to happen. Now, everyone was chatting excitedly and coming up with future plans.

 

They had future plans.

 

Leona wanted to go to school and learn how to best help the band business wise.

 

Lilianna and Malcom whispered about baby room colors.

 

Roger watched it all with warm eyes.

 

An actual difference was being made. Angels would be able to go to their shows, sing along to songs that were based on their own histories. They would have angels in the music industry, inspired by Roger. Things would change, life would change.

 

 Years ago, when he saw Roger spit into Tim’s tea he knew that there was a fire in the angel that couldn’t be put out. Not even when he lay broken and bleeding in his bed, sobbing out in pain. The fire had grown and spread, impacting everything around him.

 

This would spread.

 

The world was changing and he was lucky enough to be a witness.


	55. Chapter 55

The bill passed and became law with very little fanfare.

 

Roger wasn’t sure what he expected to be honest. Maybe fireworks or popping bottles of champagne, maybe parades or confetti falling from the sky. Instead, a wrinkled old man read out the law and there was a round of awkward applause from the other members of the house.

 

Angels were emancipated.

 

It was now illegal to own angels.

 

The words sounded so unreal that Roger had to repeat them over and over again in his head. None of the emotions he was expected ran through him. None of the joy and elation and excitement. There was only numb nothingness.

 

“Tell me what’s going on,” Brian whispered against the juncture of his neck and shoulder. “You’re just…not there.”

 

Roger felt tears burn in his eyes and clutched the other man tighter. “I…I…it’s all so stupid. It is so fucking dumb but…this is it?”

 

“What?”

 

“All of this, all the pain and evil and just a few words changed it? It doesn’t feel like enough,” he sighed.

 

“But it is. Angels will be able to sleep safely tonight and babies will be born free. In a few years time there will be a whole generation who will never know the pain you have gone through,” he ran his fingers through blond hair.

 

Roger nodded but it was still strange. It was a feeling of guilt, a feeling of emptiness. His entire free life had been build around this exact moment and now? What did he do now?

 

Apparently, he went to get his identification card.

 

It warmed his heart a bit when they arrived at the government building and saw a line of angels out the door. Wings of so many different colors swayed and flapped, no longer fearing being seen. They chatted happily, a complete lack of fear and desperate to meet others who had also been kept from their own kind.

 

The older man standing in front of him in line froze at the sight of both him and Brian. “Holy shit, you’re Roger Taylor.”

 

Roger smiled shyly and then laughed as the man enthusiastically shook his hand. Others started hearing what was going on and in no time there was an enthusiastic crowd trying to get a look at him.

 

“This was because of you,” the man had tears in his eyes. “You brought us our freedom and you will be remembered in Rhye for it, honored even.”

 

“It’s not that,” Roger shook his head, looking a bit uncomfortable.

 

“You humanized us, all four of you,” a girl spoke up. “You made them see us as people and now we are.”

 

“We always were,” Roger said.

 

This was the atmosphere he had been waiting for. The sheer celebration of free angels _together_ was what he needed. It wasn’t real when it was just him, listening to those words. It was real here, all of them standing in line to get proof that they were people. This was real.

 

The line inched forward slowly but it wasn’t tedious. Songs were sung, some of them were Queen’s songs and some he vaguely recognized. They had to be angel songs taught to them by their own mothers, songs that they refused to be forgotten.

 

It took hours before Roger got to the front of the line, the harried woman at the desk looked exhausted and annoyed.

 

“Form,” she didn’t even look up as he handed her the paper.

 

The woman circled and marked a few things on the form before grabbing a slip of paper and scribbling on it. “Your identification card will be mailed to the address on this form in two to three weeks. Here is your temporary card. Go to the left for a picture. Next!”

 

Roger clutched that little slip of paper tighter than anything, heart pounding. The line for the pictures was equally long but he didn’t even notice it. All he did was read and reread the paper again and again.

 

** British Identification Card **

Surname: Taylor

Name: Roger

Nationality: British Citizen

 

There wasn’t a space for his owner’s information because he didn’t have an owner anymore. He was a citizen, a free man.

 

Maybe he grinned a little too widely in his picture. Maybe he stretched his wings up a bit too high. Maybe his eyes shone with tears. It didn’t matter. He was the one with the identification card.

 

“How does it feel losing all of your angels _master_?” Roger practically skipped out of the building, tailed by Brian.

 

“Wonderful,” Brian laughed. “Best feeling ever.”

 

“The government is going to send you a small amount to compensate you for your loss,” Roger stretched his wings out and grinned when Brian had to dodge one. “How about we spend that on an extravagant dinner to celebrate.”

 

“Ah…I was thinking that…” Brian hesitated. “I was thinking we could donate that to an angel relief organization. Angels are going to have to pay rent or get jobs or…something. They need help.”

 

Roger’s eyes softened and he wrapped an arm around Brian’s waist. “I fell in love with the kindest man.”

 

“And I fell in love with a free one.”

 

They walked like that for a bit, swaying back and forth before Roger spoke up. “I want my mother to be buried…not like her body you know but I would like her to have a little headstone or marker. Somewhere to be remembered.”

 

“We can do that.”

 

“And maybe…maybe with all these angels getting registered I can see if I have any family out there,” something bright flashed through Roger’s eyes.

 

A new life started today.


	56. Chapter 56

After the bill was passed there was a lull and then everything went insane. 

Angels were turned out of their master’s homes, left without shelter or anyway to make money. It was a consequence Roger hadn’t seen but damn it, he should have. Their tour was postponed as Roger refused to move on until something was put into place.

Despite all the insanity, people stepped up.

Shelters were established, programs were started to create jobs for angels, and foundations helped in every way they could. It was heart warming to see the people opening their arms to the newly free angels. They far outweighed the angry protesters that were quickly losing steam. 

Maybe one day that generation of bigots would be gone; and all this would be a twisted thing of the past. 

Roger was overwhelmed but a weight was lifted off his shoulders. He held his wings up high, proud of his kind and the strength they were showing. He was a survivor, his people were survivors, and freedom would be a part of their future. 

He awoke every day with a purpose.

That purpose kept him busy enough that he was well distracted when Crystal came up to him. They were in the middle of talking over a song that John had written, something fun that had a bit of funk in it. Their next album was going to be a celebration of sorts, a reward to their fans for “playing the game” as Freddie put it. 

“Hey, bossman?” Crystal called out from the recording booth, waving Freddie off much to his chagrin. “Call for you.”

“Who is it?” Roger asked, still lightly drumming against his thighs to try and establish a rhythm that flowed with John’s bass. 

Crystal hesitated. “Says she’s your sister.”

The room screeched to a halt. Roger blinked at him, noting the strange look on Crystal’s face. “What?”

“She says that she’s your sister,” Crystal tapped the receiver on his palm. “Found you through the database.”

Roger felt his chest grow tight and looked at Brian desperately. The guitarist took in a deep breath. “You don’t have to take it. Just tell Crystal to hang up the phone.”

“No,” he shook his head. “I’ll…I’ll just be a minute.”

The walk to the soundbooth felt like an eternity. By the time he got there, the technicians had filtered out and Crystal handed him the phone with a kind smile. He switched off the mics and left, leaving Roger entirely alone. 

The angel stared at the phone for a moment before closing his eyes and lifting it to his ear. “Hello?”

There was a long pause. “Oh…oh hi. This is…my name is Clare and we had the same mother.”

Her voice was sweet and soft, making everything in his chest clench. “How do you know-“

“Her name is listed as Taylor. She was in the breeding house in King’s Lynn. According to the records she only has two children. You were born on July 26, 1949 and I was born a few years later. She died a year after I was sold to a training facility,” the woman let out in a rush. “I don’t know about…our fathers but we are at least half siblings.”

Roger clutched the receiver so tightly that he was afraid the plastic would break. 

“I’m not calling to get a handout or whatever. I honestly couldn’t believe that my brother could be The Roger Taylor,” she laughed. “The Fairy King or whatever they called you. I don’t want money or…whatever…I just want…a family. You know?”

Oh he knew. 

He knew far too well.

“How are you?” His voice cracked. “I mean…are you safe?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine. My previous master was a clothing designer and had me model some of her clothes. She wasn’t evil or anything…she didn’t hurt me. She actually offered me a job, a paid job and a place to stay,” Clare laughed. “I guess I got lucky.”

“You did,” Roger smiled softly. “Do you want to maybe meet? Are you in London?”

“I’m close enough, I’m in Croydon. I can be in London tomorrow? Maybe we can get lunch,” she laughed. “Isn’t that wild? Planning a lunch date?”

“It is,” Roger shook his head, grinning. “But we can do that.”

They quickly picked a place and time, Roger smiling at the little jokes Clare dropped. They made small talk for a few more minutes before hanging up, the promise of a meeting hovering over him. Roger held the phone to his chest, blinking away sudden tears. 

“You alright?” John asked softly when he walked back into the recording booth a few moments later. The other members hovered nearby, faces bright with worry. 

“I’m fine…I’m getting lunch with my sister tomorrow.”

Brian grinned brightly at that, shoulders relaxing. “That’s wonderful Rog.”

It was, but it didn’t mean that he wasn’t a bundle of anxiety. Roger barely got through dinner and he knew that Brian saw the stress building up in him. Thankfully, Brian didn’t say anything and just was by his side. They had an easy evening of watching television and going to bed early, Roger squirming his way into Brian’s arms until he felt safe. 

The next morning he got to the café twenty minutes early due to nerves. He had refused to have any of his bandmates accompany him, wanting him to do this entirely on his own. The hostess gave him a tight smile and led him to a small section of the patio with a hastily written “Angels Only” sign hanging over it.

It was progress he guessed. 

Apparently he wasn’t the only one who was nervous. A slender blonde angel sat at a table, fidgeting with the menu and watching the entrance carefully. When she caught sight of him she scrambled to her feet and he was able to get a good look at her.

She was pretty, truly beautiful in fact. Her face was slender and her eyes were as blue as his were. Her tawny wings flicked behind her back and she sucked in a deep breath, seemingly at a loss for words.

“You look like her,” Roger blurted and her face broke into a wide smile. “Like our mother, I mean.”

“You look like her too,” she said softly. 

They stared at each other for a long, long moment before Clare surged forward and pulled him in for a tight hug. Roger held his breath for a moment and then buried his face into her shoulder, holding her tight. For what felt like forever, they just held each other. He could feel her tears soaking into his shirt and gently rubbed in between her wings in an attempt to comfort her. 

They pulled apart, wiping their eyes and laughing a bit.

“So, tell me what it is like being a superstar,” Clare teased as the waitress brought them both a glass of water. 

He rambled on and on about his bandmates, laughing through the most wild adventures on tour. Her eyes never left his, small smile in place the whole time. She then talked about her life until the freedom bill, talking about her elderly master who just wanted someone to be with.

They laughed.

They cried. 

They were together.

“How many other angels are where we are right now? Reuniting with their families?” She said wistfully. “It’s kind of beautiful isn’t it? The idea that everyone is coming together again. Think about the fledglings that are seeing their mothers again.”

A pang shot through Roger and he smiled sadly. “Makes me wish it had happened sooner.”

“But it’s happening now. I want…Roger, I want to be a family. Is that something that maybe you would want too?”

“Of course!” He gushed, nodding quickly. “Of course! We can…I mean I don’t really know what families do. Spend holidays together…have dinner…”

“We’ll figure it out,” Clare giggled. 

Roger smiled softly, reaching across the table and squeezing her hands. “I feel like we’ve missed out on so much.”

“We have the rest of our lives to make up for it,” her eyes were warm. “Now…I have to ask you something. Am I insane or did you go all starry eyed when you talked about Brian?”

They talked for hours before the café closed and the waitress basically shooed them out. The siblings stood for a long moment, staring at each other, before hugging again tightly. They promised to see each other soon and then Roger went home, feeling lighter than he ever had.

When he got home he found Brian trying to seem nonchalant and failing miserably. The guitarist hopped up and hovered a bit, manic grin in place.

“How’d it go?” He asked nervously. 

“It’s…I have a family,” Roger felt tears burn in his eyes and Brian crossed the room in a few steps, pulling him in close. Roger twisted his fingers into Brian’s shirt and allowed the older man to gently rock him. “I have a family Brian.”

“You have always had a family, it just got bigger,” Brian kissed his ear.


	57. Chapter 57

_**~Six Years Later~** _

 

Content.

 

That was what he felt. 

 

Just. Purely. Content.

 

Brian stretched his long legs out, fingers playing with the paper label on his beer bottle. A small smile played on his lips as little Kathy got a yard off the ground before tumbling back into the grass, shrieking in laughter.

 

“I did it Uncle Roger! I did!” She laughed as her uncle scooped her up in his arms and spun her around. 

 

“That you did my dear! Soon, you’ll be flying all the way to the moon,” her wings spread out and flapped a few times. “And then you’ll bring me back some cheese, eh?”

 

“The moon isn’t made of cheese,” Kathy giggled. 

 

“Ah, that’s what they teach you in your fancy school then?” Roger teased and set her back down. “Try then, right to the moon and prove me wrong.”

 

The little angel screwed her face up and flapped her wings again. 

 

“He’s good with her,” Clare sat down in the chair next to him, hand resting on her pregnant stomach. She tucked her wings behind her back and smiled softly at her brother. “You two ever think of getting children?”

 

Brian felt a blush rise on his cheeks. Obviously it would never be possible but he had seen the light in Roger’s eyes when he first held his niece. Clare and her husband could hardly get her back from him.

 

“Actually...we are looking into adoption,” he said softly and Clare perked up. 

 

“Realy?”

 

“A little boy named Felix,” Brian’s chest warmed at the memory of the sweet little angel they had met in the orphanage. “His mother was a breeder when the emancipation happened. She died a few days after giving birth to him.”

 

Clare hummed, eyes going a bit dark. “Do you ever think about the fact that one day there will be a whole generation of us who have never been owned?”

 

“I do,” Brian nodded. 

 

Roger came over, Kathy giggling in his arms, and sat down in an empty chair. “This little one wore me out.”

 

“So you can drum in a concert for hours but only throw around a three year old for twenty minutes?” Clare teased and got a huff in return. “But...we have to go anyway.”

 

There was a whine of disapproval from both Roger and Kathy. 

 

“Daddy will be home any minute from his business trip. We can decorate that cake we made earlier, eh?” Kathy clapped her hands and nodded furiously. She pressed a kiss to her uncles’ cheeks and Roger walked them to the front door. 

 

“Rog?” Brian called out as they walked past. “Another drink?”

 

“You’re a saint,” the angel gave him a wink and wished his sister and niece goodbye. He went through their fridge as he heard the door close. Arms wrapped around his middle and he smiled as Roger leaned into him, sighing. 

 

He passed the angel a beer and grabbed one of his own. They wandered out into the garden, finding the chairs on their patio. For a few long moments they just sipped at their drinks and watched the sun slightly dip lower beyond the trees. 

 

“Do you think I’m going to be a good father?” Roger spoke up. Brian glanced over to see his wings curling in a bit, a clear sign that he was uncomfortable. 

 

Brian put the beer aside and leaned over, taking Roger’s hand in his own until the angel met his eyes. “Of course Roger. You’ll be so good.”

 

“I just...being with Kathy and then all the stuff with Felix...it feels like it’s going to actually happen and I’ve been thinking...it’s stupid,” Roger shook his head, frowning. “Nevermind.”

 

“It is going to happen and you are going to be the best father anyone could wish for,” Brian smiled and squeezed his hand. 

 

He hated this, the way Roger would slip a bit into his mind. “I just...he could have a parent who doesn’t wake up in a cold sweat for nightmares or...who doesn’t shy away from stupid things.”

 

“He’s going to be getting a father who is the bravest person I know,” Brian smiled softly. “A freaking rockstar who has played in front of the largest crowds ever. An angel who fought for freedom and won it. A survivor who became the love of my life.”

 

Roger melted a bit at that and a small smile appeared on his face. 

 

“And Rog? He’ll be so proud that you’re his father,” Brian brought his hand up to kiss the back of it. 

 

Roger’s smile was brighter than the sun setting in front of them. 

 

In that moment Brian was brought back to the first time he saw Roger, eyes blank and fixed on the floor. That fire he had in him dimmed nearly to embers. He remembered the pain and suffering the angel had gone through only to come out stronger and braver than Brian thought possible. 

 

This was it.

 

This was their life now.

 

Performing songs around the world they wrote, playing together in the studio, sleeping with legs entwined at night. 

 

They would adopt a child, give it the love that so many went without. 

 

They would probably adopt more. 

 

They would keep playing together until they were old and grey and then even more. 

 

It was a life that Brian had never thought possible as he sat at Roger’s bedside, praying to a God he didn’t believe in that the infection from his broken wing and weakened body wouldn’t snuff out that light. 

 

It was a good life. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm kind of emotional that this story is ending! It has been a joy to write and a joy to get to know some of you through it. I can't tell you how much your kind words and comments meant to me. It was hard to find a place to end (mainly because I wanted to keep writing it forever) but this felt like a natural way to end the journey the boys were going on. 
> 
> Also, Freddie lives because I wrote the story and I say so.
> 
> I'm happy to accept prompts for one shots on this story on my tumblr Queenofallcorgis if you have an idea for a continuation or an AU. I love writing this verse so much!
> 
> I love all of you!!! I hope you liked the ending of this story!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Long Away](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20515871) by [BrianMaysLegs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrianMaysLegs/pseuds/BrianMaysLegs)
  * [Hurting and healing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20596055) by [NovemberWings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NovemberWings/pseuds/NovemberWings)




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